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AN    ARTIST    IN    THE    RIVIERA 


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Camogli 


Frontispiece 


An  Arlist 

In  the 


RIVI ERA 

Wriiten  and  taeiinted 
WALTER  TYNDALE..PU. 


Amor  xT»i  mosse 
CV\e  iT\l  [a  pc\.rlAre 


:^ 


^  if.  ■ 


HEARST'S    INTERNATIONAL    LIBRARY    CO. 

NEW   YORK        ::  ::  ::  ::         ::         ::         1915 


Printed  in  GHal  Britain 


ARTS 


PREFACE 

The  reader  may  miss,  in  the  following  pages,  both  illustrations  and 
mention  of  places  often  associated  with  the  Riviera,  although,  strictly 
speaking,  they  do  not  come  within  its  limits.  "  La  Riviera "  is  the 
Italian  name  specially  given  to  the  sea  littoral  between  the  Gulf  of 
Spezia  and  the  mouth  of  the  Var.  West  of  that  river  is  known  in 
France  as  "  La  Cote  d'Azur."  To  have  included  the  well-known 
places  lying  between  Nice  and  Marseilles  would  have  added  to  the 
bulk  of  this  volume,  and  may  be  left  to  a  future  one,  should  a  desire 
for  it  be  expressed.  But  apart  from  this  consideration,  I  felt  more 
attracted  to  the  Itahan  than  to  the  French  side  of  this  favoured 
coast.  Nature  has  been  as  lavish  in  her  gifts  to  the  one  as  to  the 
other ;  but  in  man's  attempts  to  subdue  Nature  to  his  present 
requirements  "  La  Cote  d'Azur  "  has  lost  more  of  its  charm  than  the 
less  sophisticated   Italian  Riviera. 

Whether  even  this  one  volume  supplies  a  want  I  will  not  attempt 
to  prove,  judging  that  my  publishers  know  more  than  I  do  what  the 
public  does  want.  My  concern,  as  a  painter,  is  that  it  wants  so  few 
pictures,  and  is  so  easily  satisfied  with  cheap  reproductions.  "  Then 
why  not  give  us  more  reproductions  and  say  less  about  them  ? 
the  critic  may  ask,  should  he  be  unaware  that  reproduction,  by  any 
colour  process,  is  still  much  more  costly  than  words.  And  if  excuse 
be  wanting  for  so  many  words,  I  will  again  quote  Dante's  lines  on 
my  title  page  : 

'■  Amor  mi  mosse 
Che  mi  fa  parlare." 

"For  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  his  mouth  speaketh ''  is  as  good 
an  EngUsh  rendering  as  I  can  find.  It  is,  however,  poor  fun  speaking 
unless  one  secures  a  listener ;  and,  should  I  be  fortunate  enough  to 
find  one,  I  will  first  speak  of  the  "  Riviera  di  Levante  " — that  portion 
east  of  Genoa  ;  and  if  he  or  she  will  follow  me  so  far,  I  will  devote 
the  second  part  of  this  book  to  "  La   Riviera  di  Ponente." 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PART    1 

LA  RIVIERA  DI  LEV  ANTE 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I. — "  Genova  La  Superba  "........         3 

n.^S.  Margherita,  Portofino,  and  the  Convent  of  S.  Fruttuoso       14 
III- — Concerning  the   Host  and   Guests  of  the    "  Kaiserhof,"    and 

THE  Advent  of  an  Operatic  Company      .....       25 

IV. — Christmas  at  S.  Margherita,  the  Presepio  at  San  Francesco, 

and  a  few  Words  concerning  the  Convent  of  Cervara       .       36 
V. — Rapallo   and  its  Story  ;    the  Church  of   S.  Michele   and  the 

Van  Dyck  which  it  contains  .  .  .  .  .  .       48 

VI. — Some    of    the    Humours    of    Hotel    Life,    together    with    an 

Excursion  to  Portofino  Kulm        ......       60 

VII. — Camogli    and    its   Patron    Saints,    and   the    Santo    Quadro    of 

Montallegro  ..........       72 

VIII. — Sestri  Levante,  Le  Cinque  Terre  and  Portovenere        .  .       83 

IX. — The  Marionette  Show,  and  the  Cinematograph  Drama  . 
X. — S.  Salvatore,  and  the  Acquaintance   I   made  on   my   Journey 

TO  IT  . 

XI. — Lavagna      and      Chiavari,      and      a     Word     concerning      S. 

Salvatore       .         .  .  ...  .  .  .  .122 

PART    11 

LA  RIVIERA  DI  PONENTE 

XII. — The  Road  from  Genoa  to  Noli;    the    "Albergo  Paolo,"    and 

the  Basilica  of  S.  Paragorio  .  .  .  .  .  .139 

XIII. — The  Story  of  Noli   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  -151 

XIV. — The  Island  of  Bergeggi,  and  an  Account  of  S.  Eugenio        .      165 
B  ix 


95 
109 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

XV. — Evenings  at  Noli      .........      174 

XVI. — ^The  Humours  of  the   Country   Inn  ;    Albenga  seen    from   its 

Narrow  Streets  and  from  across  the  Plain  .  .  .      182 

XVII. — Villanova  d'  Albenga,  the  Guests  at  the  "  Albergo  di  Com- 

MERCIO,"    AND    THE    JoURNEY    TO    DiANO    MaRINA  .  .  .        I93 

XVIII. — DiANO  Marina,  Cervo  S.  Bartolomeo,  and  a  Sermon  preached 

in  THE  Church  at  Diano  Castello  .....      202 

XIX. — The  Coast  Towns  between  Diano  Marina  and  San  Remo  ;  the 

Two  San   Remos,  the  Old  and  the  New         .  .  .  .211 

XX. — Excursions    from    San    Remo:     La    Madonna    di    Lampedusa; 
Ceriana,  Dolceacqua.     Bordighera,  and  the  True   Story  of 
ITS  Bombardment  by  the  British  Fleet  .....      221 

XXI. — Ventimiglia  and  La  Mortola    .......     233 

XXII. — Mentone  and  Monte  Carlo       .  .  .  .  .     •     .  .      241 

XXIII. — The  Principality  of  Monaco    .......     255 

XXIV. — Nice  :  the  Hotel  des  Etrangers,  French  Cooking,  the  General 
Elections,  the  Market-place,  and  the  Unrivalled  Excur- 
sions into  the  Vallons  of  Nice   ......     263 


LIST    OF    COLOURED    PLATES 


Camocli  ..... 

portofino        ..... 

S.  Fruttuoso,  Portofino 

S.  Margherita  Ligure    . 

Entrance  to  the  Villa  Centurione,  S.  Margherita  Ligure 

At  S.  Michele,  Rapallo 

Piazza  M.^^zzini,  S.  Margherita 

The  Harbour  at  Camogli 

The  Strand  at  Sestri  Levante 

In  the  Villa  Piuma,  Sestri  Levante 

La  Piazza,  Sestri  Levante 

S.  Salvatore  ..... 

La  Penisola,  Sestri  Levante 

The  Greengrocer  Shop 

A  Lane  in  Noli      .... 

Via  deglo  Speddale,  Noli 

Noli 

Albenga  from  the  Centa 
The  Romanesque  Church  at  Albenga 
VicoLo  del  Ponte,  Villa  Nuova  di  Albenga 
Street  in  Cervo  San   Bartolommeo 

ViCOLO    DELLA    PrOVIDENZA,    SaN    ReMO 

A  Procession  in  San  Remo     . 

The  Blessing  of  the  Houses 

La  Rocca,  San  Remo 

Pont  St.  Louis        .... 

Mentone,  from  Caravan 

Flower  Stall  in  Mentone    Market 

The  Principality  of  Monaco 

The  Market  .■^t  Nice 


Frontispiece 
Facing  page  i6 
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158 
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202 
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218 
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228 
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240 
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254 
262 


XI 


Y 


PART    I 

LA    RIVIERA    DI    LEVANTE 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 


CHAPTER    1 


GENOVA    LA    SUPERBA 


"  Genoa  was  a  bank  before  it  was  a  city." 

Michelet. 

GENOA  is  usually  the  first  place  in  which  the 
foreigner,  intent  on  wintering  ni  either  the 
Eastern  or  Western  Rivieras,  breaks  his  journey. 
If  it  be  his  first  visit  to  Italy,  and  the  weather  pro- 
pitious, Genoa  will  in  all  probability  tar  exceed  his 
expectations.  But  should  he  arrive  there  in  bad 
weather,  he  will  in  all  likelihood  seek  shelter  at  Nervi 
and  set  down  La  Superba  "  as  a  detestable  hole.  To 
a  great  extent  our  first  impressions  of  any  city  depend 
on  the  weather  in  which  we  see  it  ;  but  it  is  markedly 
so  here,  tor  Genoa  can  be  very  beautiful  when  she 
smiles,  and  can  be  very  unpleasant  when  she  frowns. 
I  have  known  her  in  every  mood,  and  it  is  hard  to 
believe  that  the  various  impressions  I  have  taken  away 
are  all  of  one  and  the  same  place. 

Genoa    was    looking    her    best    when     I    broke    my 

3 


AN  ARTIST  IN   THE  RIVIERA 

journey  there  last  December.  The  sun  was  warm 
enough  to  make  a  top-coat  superfluous,  the  air  was  crisp 
and  exhilarating,  although  there  was  hardly  enough 
wind  to  ruflle  the  surface  of  the  Mediterranean.  The 
intense  blue  of  the  waters,  shot  with  streaks  of  emerald, 
had  the  iridescence  of  a  peacock's  neck.  The  light 
seemed  to  dazzle  on  the  buildings  more  than  its  wont, 
and  the  shadows  appeared  more  violet  than  ever.  In 
the  old  town  nothing  was  changed  since  my  former 
visit,  and  yet  the  houses  seemed  taller  and  the  streets 
narrower  ;  and  surely  there  was  a  greater  abundance  of 
linen  hung  out  wherever  a  ray  of  sun  could  catch  it. 
The  solution  probably  lay  in  my  having  spent  the  six 
previous  months  in  a  studio  in  England,  whereas  on  a 
former  visit  I  had  come  from  the  flaming  East. 

The  sights  of  Genoa  are  adequately  enough  described 
in  every  guide-book.  I  had  "done"  all  the  palaces 
years  ago,  and  chiefly  remember  the  depression  caused 
by  their  monotonous  gorgeousness.  We  visit  the 
palaces  and  galleries  in  other  Italian  cities  chiefly  to 
study  the  art  which  those  cities  produced  ;  but  what  art 
has  Genoa  ever  produced  .''  There  are  certainly  fine 
pictures  in  several  of  these  palaces,  but  the  best  of  them 
are  not  the  work  of  Genoese  artists.  The  buildings 
that  house  them  are  impressive  in  their  way,  and  that 
is  owing  to  their  being  designed  by  architects  from 
other  Italian  states. 

I  have  generally  noticed  a  blank  look  on  the  face  of 
most  people  on  their  being  told  of  another  palace  which 
4 


"GENOVA   LA  SUPERBA" 


they  had  escaped  seeing  ;  and  the  reason  ot  this  is,  1 
take  it,  that  these  palaces,  presumably  built  as  dwelling 
places,  have  so  little  in  them  suggestive  ot  a  home. 
Little  wonder  it  is  that  many  ot  them  are  uninhabited 
or  are  only  used  as  places  ot  entertainment  on  special 
occasions. 

After  the  tourist  has  been  thoroughly  depressed  by  a 
long  course  ot  palaces,  to  cheer  him  up  he  is  usually 
trotted  off  to  the  Campo  Santo,  the  public  cemetery, 
and  the  extraordinary  thing  is  to  hear  him  enthuse 
about  the  beauties  ot  the  monuments.  Now  ot  all  the 
execrable  art  the  "  monumental  artist  "  has  produced 
during  the  last  two  centuries,  nothing  can  touch  the 
horrible  things  seen  here.  Young  sculptors  should  be 
sent  here  to  study  everything  that  a  sculptor  should 
avoid.  It  would  hardly  be  worth  alluding  to  these 
monstrosities  were  they  only  admired  by  the  casual 
tourist.  But  what  is  one  to  say,  when  one  tinds,  as 
follows,  in  a  work  ot  some  literary  pretensions  :  Per- 

haps the  most  remarkable  sight  of  Genoa  is  the  Campo 
Santo,  or  public  cemetery,  situated  about  a  mile  and  a 
halt  out  of  the  city  on  the  western  slope  ot  the  Bisagno 
Valley.  It  bears  witness  not  only  to  the  wealth,  but 
also  to  the  artistic  taste  and  refinement  ot  the  people. 
Nowhere  else,  except  in  the  region  where  marble  was  so 
abundant  and  accessible,  and  where  a  high  level  ot 
artistic  taste  has  been  attained  even  by  common  work- 
men, could  such  a  wondertul  enclosure  have  been 
constructed."      Further    on    the   writer   goes    into  more 

5 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

detail  concerning  "  the  artistic  taste  and  refinement  of 
the  people."  In  the  inner  arcade,  where  the  wealthiest 
and  most  eminent  families  of  the  city  are  laid,  there  is 
a  succession  of  magnificent  mausoleums,  costing,  in 
some  cases,  no  less  than  ;/^i,500.  Each  family  has  a 
whole  vault  to  itself,  and  the  sculptured  contents,  con- 
sisting of  mural  monuments  in  high  relief,  and  of  single 
statues  and  groups  of  figures,  all  carved  in  pure  white 
marble,  display  a  wonderful  fertility  of  invention  and 
marvellous  grace  and  freedom  of  execution.  The 
representations  of  human  sorrow  are  exceedingly  realistic. 
Here  a  female  figure  is  sitting  up  in  bed  with  an  eager 
fascinated  look  grasping  the  arm  of  another  figure 
clothed  in  a  long  loose  robe,  and  pointing  upwards  with 
extended  arm.  There  another  female  form  is  borne  to 
Heaven  by  an  angel  resting  on  clouds.  Yonder  a 
mother  with  a  babe  on  each  arm,  and  a  widow  mourn- 
ing over  her  husband's  death-bed,  and  wiping  with  a 
handkerchief  the  tears  that  are  trickling  down  her 
cheeks.  Each  group  and  single  figure  is  worthy  of  a 
special  study."  The  writer,  namely.  Dr.  Hugh  Mac- 
millan,  who  gives  us  a  very  interesting  book  on  the 
Riviera,  possibly  felt  that  as  an  art  critic  he  was  on 
doubtful  ground,  for  he  suggests  that  perhaps  it  might 
be  said  that  the  sculpture  is  too  life-like  and  does  not 
sufficiently  idealize  the  varied  representations  of  human 
distress." 

Shortly   after   seeing   these    ghasdy   representations    I 
found   myself   in   Pisa,   and    I   hesitated   before  entering 
6 


"GENOVA  LA  SUPERBA" 


the  beautiful  Campo  Santo  there,  fearing  lest  some  of 
the  "  artistic  taste  "  of  the  latter-day  Genoese  might 
have  crept  in.  Happily  this  is  not  the  case,  and  the 
wonderful  frescoes  soon  dispelled  the  unpleasant  taste 
left  by  its  Genoese  namesake. 

If  Genoa  has  produced  few  artists  it  has  not  failed  to 
produce  good  engineers.  The  via  di  Circonvallazione 
a  Monte  is  a  wondrous  bit  of  construction.  In  long 
windings  it  skirts  the  hillside  through  the  modern  part 
of  the  city,  and  by  gentle  gradients  it  reaches  to  the 
Spianata  Castelletto.  I  do  not  usually  spend  much 
time  in  the  modern  parts  of  any  Italian  city,  but  on  a 
day  such  as  the  one  I  hit  on  last  December,  everything 
was  glorified  by  the  beauty  of  the  sunlight.  At  every 
curve  in  the  tram-line  the  extending  horizon  brought 
some  fresh  reaches  of  the  coast  into  view,  and  on  arriving 
at  the  Castelletto  it  was  well  worth  leaving  the  car  to 
admire  the  panorama,  and  continuing  by  the  followmg 
one  the  wmdings  down  to  the  eastern  part  of  the  town. 

The  modern  Italian  towns  and  the  newly-built  parts 
of  the  ancient  ones  are  certainly  well  planned  and  the 
roads  well  engineered,  but  they  lack  interest  from  want 
of  local  character.  The  situation  of  Genoa  necessitates 
the  modern  quarters  being  somewhat  difTerent  from 
those  of  the  cities  in  the  plains,  but  it  is  little  more  than 
the  accident  of  the  lay  of  the  land.  Whereas  the  old 
towns  all  have  a  general  Italian  character,  they  retam, 
nevertheless,  many  characteristics  peculiar  to  themselves. 
The  old   parts  of  Genoa  are  distinctly  Genoese.      A  bit 

7 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

taken  from  these  would  look  strange  it  stuck  in  any 
other  town  ;  but  who  would  know  the  difference  it  a 
modern  bit  of  Florence  were  tacked  on  to  a  modern 
part  of  Rome,  Milan,  or  anywhere  else  in  Italy  ? 

It  is  well  worth  going  to  the  Spianata  Castelletto  to 
see  the  view  from  it,  but  certainly  not  to  see  the  place 
itself.  The  want  of  views  is  not  felt  in  the  old  quarters, 
for  these  are  quite  interesting  enough  in  themselves. 
To  appreciate  them  properly  we  should  go  there  in 
summer,  and  this  applies  to  most  old  southern  towns, 
built,  as  they  are,  more  to  ward  off  the  heat  than  to 
keep  out  the  cold.  The  narrow  streets  keep  moderately 
cool  in  midsummer,  while  the  broad  thoroughfares  and 
spacious  piazzas  are  unbearably  hot. 

Besides  the  physical  discomfort  of  sketching  during 
the  cold  weather,  these  narrow  lanes  are  then  much  less 
pictorial.  During  the  long  days  a  stray  ray  of  sun  may 
find  its  way  through  the  clothes  hanging  out  to  dry  and 
give  a  fine  luminous  shadow  beneath  the  projecting 
eaves  and,  trickling  down  a  side  of  the  tall  houses,  cast 
warm  reflections  into  the  opposing  shades.  The  people 
also  look  more  picturesque,  their  limbs  are  less  hid  by 
a  superabundance  of  clothes,  and  the  little  children  will 
play  about  half-naked.  Men  and  women  will  ply  their 
trades  in  the  open  doorways  or  on  the  pavement,  and  all 
the  picturesque  incidents  ot  everyday  lite  may  be  seen 
and  studied  in  any  ot  these  streets. 

Warm  as  the  sun  was  on   that    December  morning, 
everyone  moved  quickly  through   the  narrow  lanes,   and 
8 


"GENOVA  LA  SUPERBA" 


only  loitered  when  they  reached  the  sunny  side  ot  the 
little  piazzas  dotted  about  the  old  town.  Ot  the  latter 
the  most  picturesque  is  the  Piazza  Banchi — and  how 
truly  Genoese  J  the  church  at  one  end  is  called  St. 
Peter  of  the  Banks,  the  Exchange  faces  it  and  money- 
changers cluster  round  it.  Its  entrance  is  reached  by  a 
double  flight  oi  steps  as  high  as  the  shops  on  which 
the  church  stands.  The  purist  will  find  much  to 
criticize  in  its  architecture,  but  all  must  admit  that  it  is 
picturesque. 

At  a  short  distance,  in  the  direction  of  the  harbour, 
stands  the  Banco  di  S.  Giorgio.  We  will  quote  again 
Dr.  Hugh  Macmillan,  who  is  on  sater  ground  here 
than  as  a  critic  ot  sculpture  :  Perhaps  the  most 
interesting  relic  ot  the  old  town  is  the  hoary  Gothic 
building,  begrimed  with  dirt,  ot  the  Compera,  or  tamous 
bank  ot  St.  George,  near  the  harbour.  It  is  said  that 
the  stones  of  which  it  is  composed  were  brought  trom  a 
monastery  near  Constantinople  in  1260.  This  was 
the  oldest  banking  and  trading  house  in  Europe.  Here 
originated  those  ideas  ot  developing  capital,  finding 
money  and  charging  interest  which  have  developed  into 
the  wonderful  complications  ot  modern  commerce  and 
finance.  This  bank  was  the  source  ot  Genoa's  com- 
mercial greatness  ;  indeed,  to  use  Michelet's  phrase, 
Genoa  was  a  bank  betore  it  was  a  city.'  Like  our 
own  East  India  Company,  only  that  its  sphere  was  at 
home  instead  of  in  a  distant  land,  it  had  a  distinct 
independent  government,  and  was  a  state  within  a  state. 

9 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

It  governed  colonies  in  the  Crimea,  in  Cyprus,  and  in 
Asia  Minor  ;  Ventimiglia  and  other  towns  of  the 
Riviera  were  at  one  time  under  its  direct  sovereignty, 
and  floated  the  white  flag  of  St.  George  instead  of  the 
repubHcan  red  cross,  while  in  Corsica  the  arms  of  the 
Bank  may  still  be  seen  carved  over  the  portals  of  many 
of  the  old  official  houses."  The  Bank  remained  a 
great  power  in  the  State  until  the  French  Revolution, 
when  its  income  from  public  revenues  was  confiscated. 
From  this  it  never  recovered,  and  since  then  the  building 
has  been  used  as  a  custom  house,  and  now  it  is  little 
more  than  a  show-place.  Twenty-one  statues  of  worthy 
Genoese  citizens,  chiefly  of  the  fifteenth  century,  stand 
against  the  walls  of  the  great  hall. 

"  A  princely  people's  awful  princes, 
The  grave,  severe  Genoese  of  old." 

1  looked  into  San  Lorenzo  not  because  that  cathedral 
attracts  me  very  much,  but  to  have  another  look  at  a 
subject  I  had  painted  there  a  good  many  years  previously. 
To  my  delight  the  same  sacristan  was  still  there,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  thousands  of  foreigners  he  had  shown  round 
since  then,  he  at  once  recognized  me.  I  remarked 
that  no  changes  had  taken  place  during  those  years,  to 
which  he  answered  :  This  old  Duomo  is  very  like  an 
elephant,  which  they  tell  me  hardly  changes  a  hair  in  a 
hundred  years  ;  mine  have  changed  a  good  deal,"  he 
said,  showing  his  white  locks,  but  yours,  signore, 
have  still  kept  their  colour."      The  last  time  I  had  seen 

10 


'GENOVA   LA  SUPERBA" 


him  he  suddenly  asked  me   the  ages   of  my  three  sons, 

and  on  my  giving  them,  he  ran  off  to  secure  the   three 

numbers  in  the  State  lottery  before  the  office  was  closed. 

I  now  reminded  him  ot   this,  and  he  shook  his  head  ; 

the  ages  ot   my  boys  had  brought  him  no  luck.      Our 

chat  was  pleasanter  now   than  in  the  old  days  when  the 

disgusting  habit  of  spittmg   on  the  floors   was  more    in 

vogue.      For  some  while  now,  a  notice  has  been  posted 

up  in  every  church    m  Italy,  beggmg  the  congregation, 

both  out  ot  respect  tor  the  House  ot  God  as   well  as  tor 

public  hygiene,  not  to  spit  on  the  pavement.      Most   of 

the    old  people  can't  break  the  habit,  but  the  younger 

generation  is  growing  out  ot  it. 

We  will   leave    Herr  Baedeker  to  give  the  details    ot 

the  cathedral  while  we  zigzag  through  the  narrow  streets 

which  lead  to  the   small   Gothic  church  ot   S.    Matteo. 

The  chief  interest  ot  this  church   lies  in  its  associations 

with    the    Dorias,    besides    being    the    resting-place    of 

Andrea,  the   foremost  bearer  of  the  family  name.      The 

fa9ade    is    late    thirteenth-century,     built    in     alternate 

layers   ot  black   and   white  marble.      There  is  very  little 

decoration  beyond  the  mouldings  on  the  jambs  ot  the 

porch  and  round    the  pointed    arch,   and   the  touch  ot 

positive  colour  ot  the  mosaic  above  the  lintel.      Simple 

as    this    is,     it    is    exactly    the    thing    wanted.       When 

Montorsoli  remodelled  the  interior  in  1530,  it  is  possible 

that  the  beauty  of  this  porch  appealed  to  him  sufficiently 

to  prevent  his  encasing  the  whole  tacade  in  the  style  ot 

his  period.       Inscriptions  in  honour  of  different  members 

II 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

ot  the  Doria  family  are  inscribed  on  every  alternate 
stone  on  the  outward  faces  of  the  jambs,  and  there  is 
another  on  an  ancient  sarcophagus,  built  into  the  wall 
beneath  the  right-hand  window.  This  is  in  memory  of 
Lamba  Doria,  who  in  1297  defeated  the  Venetians  at 
Curzola. 

Much  as  one  might  wish  that  the  interior  had  not 
been  remodelled  out  of  all  relation  to  the  exterior,  there 
is  nevertheless  a  great  charm  about  it,  and  some  of  the 
details  are  very  fine  cinque-cento  work.  Andrea  Doria's 
sword  hangs  over  the  high  altar — a  relic  which  the 
custodian  can  point  out  without  excitmg  a  suspicion 
that  he  has  his  tongue  in  his  cheek.  The  handsome 
cloisters,  slightly  later  than  the  main  building,  can 
serve  as  a  genealogical  tree  of  the  medieval  Dorias, 
and  near  the  last  resting-place  of  the  great  admiral  are 
the  remains  of  his  statue,  by  Montorsoli,  which  was 
mutilated  during  the  French  Revolution. 

Nearly  every  house  in  the  piazza  in  front  of  the 
church  belonged  to  a  member  of  the  Doria  family. 
They  look  small  in  comparison  to  the  sixteenth-century 
one  built  for  Andrea,  but  would,  nevertheless,  be 
considered  very  large  houses  in  London. 

We  shall  hear  more  of  this   illustrious  family  as  we 

proceed  from  town  to  town  along  the  Ligurian  coast.      It 

is  curious  how  few  relics  remain  ot  Andrea  Doria's  great 

contemporary  and  fellow  citizen,  Christopher  Columbus  ; 

he  was  only  twenty  years  senior  to  the  admiral,  yet,  from 

the  tew  relics  of  him  that  we  come  across,   he  seems  to 
12 


"GENOVA  LA  SUPERBA" 


belong  to  a  much  earlier  date.      The  house  of  his  birth 
is  pointed  out,  but  with  doubtful  authenticity. 

Compared  with  many  other  old  Italian  cities,  Genoa 
has  not  much  to  detain  an  artist  unless  he  treats  large 
panoramic  subjects.  Picturesque  bits  "  are  com- 
paratively few  ;  it  is  her  position,  rising  like  an  amphi- 
theatre above  her  wide  semi-circular  harbour,  terrace 
above  terrace,  till  palaces  and  gardens  are  lost  in  the 
folds  ot  the  hills,  which  justifies  her  proud  title  of 
La  Superba. 


13 


CHAPTER    II 

S.    MARGHERITA,    PORTOFINO,    AND    THE    CONVENT 
OF    S.     FRUTTUOSO 

REMEMBERING  what  some  artist  friends  of  mine 
had  told  me  of  S.  Margherita,  I  decided  to  go 
there.  I  had  been  given  the  impression  that  it 
was  a  quite  unsophisticated  place,  mainly  inhabited  by 
fisher-folk,  with,  nevertheless,  a  quite  possible  inn  to 
put  up  at.  You  may  imagine  my  disappointment 
when,  arriving  at  the  station,  I  found  about  twenty 
hotel  omnibuses  and  hall-porters  awaiting  the  train. 
Those  ponderous  titles,  seen  on  every  great  modern 
caravansary,  met  my  gaze,  not  one  of  which  suggested 
the  'quite  possible"  inn  I  had  heard  of.  When  I 
asked  for  the  Albergo  Centrale,  a  gold  brocaded  cap 
with  Imperial  Palace  "  on  it  and  a  man  underneath, 
consulted  the  cap  of  the  ' '  Royal  ' '  ;  the  Royal  ' '  had 
never  heard  of  it  ;  but  as  the  Continental  "  cap  was 
doing  its  second  season,  I  was  referred  to  its  wearer. 
This  one  turned  round  and  called  out  Kaiserhof," 
pointing  my  way  with  his  thumb,  and  before  I  could 
H 


S.   MARGHERITA 


explain  that  that  was  not  the  hotel  I  sought,  a  man  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  and  no  cap  whatever  on  his  head,  pushed 
his  way  through  these  magnificent  creatures,  and  seized 
hold  of  my  hand-bag.  Not  a  word  ol  Italian  did  I 
hear  all  this  time  ;  I  had  been  addressed  in  English  by 
the  "caps,"  who  amongst  themselves  spoke  German; 
"  shirt-sleeves  "  spoke  little  of  either,  but  French  like  a 
native.  In  the  latter  language  I  was  told  that  the 
Albergo  Centrale  and  the  Kaiserhof  were  one  and  the 
same  place. 

A  feeling  of  hatred  towards  those  artist  friends  who 
had  led  me  here  rankled  within  me,  and  I  meditated 
how  I  could  avenge  this  by  luring  them  to  some 
Imperial  Palace  Hotel  under  the  pretence  that  it  was  a 
characteristic  old  Italian  inn,  formerly  the  palace  ol 
Doge,  with  a  sanded  fioor  and  mouldering  frescoes  on 
the  ceiUng.  I  had  hardly  planned  out  this  form  ot 
revenge,  before  my  cab  drew  up  at  the  Kaiserhof.  I 
soon  discovered  that  I  had  not  done  so  badly  ;  the  hotel 
was  only  pretentious  in  its  name,  i.e.  Imperial  Court, 
for  I  was  very  comfortable  there  and  the  charges  were 
not  on  an  imperial  scale. 

S.  Margherita  in  itself  is  a  poor  sketching  ground  ; 
but  it  has  an  advantage  in  its  being  placed  mid-way 
between  two  very  picturesque  places,  and  these  are 
Portofino  and  Camogli.  Rapallo  is  only  two  miles 
further  along  the  coast  ;  but  that  once  pretty  old  town 
is  now  almost  smothered  in  "  Imperial  Palace  "  hotels, 
kursaals  and   such  like  ;   and  what  is  even  worse  is  the 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

number  of  villas  lately  built  by  the  "  Americani  " — not 
Americans,  as  we  understand  the  name,  but  by  Italian 
emigrants  to  the  Argentine  Republic,  who,  after  having 
made  a  fortune,  return  to  their  native  country  to  spend 
it.  These  villas  are  mostly  in  execrable  taste,  and 
adorned  with  plenty  of  sculpture  of  the  Campo  Santo 
order.  Some  are  painted  an  eye-searing  magenta, 
others  a  saffron  yellow,  and  when  that  does  not  hurt  one 
enough  they  may  try  a  combination  of  the  two  colours 
with  parts  picked  out  in  sky-blue.  Happily  the  shrubs 
and  trailing  plants  grow  luxuriantly  in  this  district  and 
hide  parts  ot  these  houses  from  the  road. 

The  coast,  from  Portofino  to  Chiavari,  forming  the 
Gulf  of  Rapallo  (properly  called  the  Tigullian  Gulf),  is 
by  nature  one  ot  the  most  beautiful  parts  of  the  Riviera, 
a  fact  which  makes  these  horrible  villas  all  the  more 
trying.  One  inlet  succeeds  another,  and  on  every 
promontory  the  ruins  ot  an  ancient  stronghold  are  seen 
amidst  the  dark  green  of  the  pines  and  ilexes.  The 
three  miles  of  road  from  S.  Margherita  to  the  eastern 
face  of  the  promontory  ot  Portofino  has  been  tortunately 
less  spoilt  by  the  Americani,"  one  or  two  of  the  villas 
near  it  even  adding  to  its  charms.  The  inlet  at  Paraggi 
with  its  quaint  fishing  village  still  retains  its  character  ; 
and  the  land  around  it,  as  well  as  on  the  extreme  spit 
of  the  promontory,  has  so  far  been  kept  unspoilt  by  Mr. 
Yeats  Brown,  an  Englishman,  who  until  recently  owned 
nearly  the  whole  of  it. 

The  road  takes  one  or  two  sharp  turnings  after 
i6 


Portofino 


distr 


ill  th. 


S.  MARGHERITA 


leaving  Paraggi,  and  the  little  town,  circling  the  land- 
locked harbour  of  Portofino,  comes  into  view.  Its 
position  as  a  harbour  of  rehige  for  small  crah  is  idea]  ; 
it  is  sheltered  from  the  south-west  winds  by  a  lotty 
peninsula,  which  juts  out  at  the  extreme  pomt  of  the 
promontory,  and  it  lies  snugly  tucked  m  a  deep  little 
bay  at  the  isthmus.  That  the  harbour  was  coveted  by 
many  besides  its  rightful  owners  is  evidenced  by  the 
castle  overlooking  it — -a  stronghold  raised  in  medieval 
times  to  protect  the  town  from  the  Barbary  corsairs. 
It  has  not,  like  most,  fallen  into  ruin,  and  until  lately 
was  occupied  by  its  owner,  Mr.  Yeats  Brown.  A  vdla, 
beautifully  situated  on  the  high  ground  forming  the 
neck  of  the  peninsula,  is  owned  by  the  Dowager- 
Countess  of  Carnarvon.  The  town  has  so  far  remained 
unspoilt  by  exploitation  ;  but  compared  with  other 
Italian  fishing  villages  there  is  an  unwonted  tidiness, 
suggestive  of  British  influence.  A  huge  hotel  with  the 
vile  name  "  Grand  Splendide  "  occupies  a  fine  position 
some  way  up  the  mountain  on  the  main  portion  of  the 
promontory. 

This  hotel  with  the  two  large  English  residences  have 
doubtless  contributed  to  the  prosperity  of  the  town,  and 
prosperity  in  this  part  of  Italy  generally  shows  itself  in 
strong  colours.  I  had  to  wash  a  good  deal  of  it  ofF  in 
the  accompanying  illustration  to  make  it  passable,  and 
probably  more  like  what  the  houses  were  before  pro- 
sperity broke  out  in  bucketsful  of  red  and  green 
paint. 

2  17 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

While  intent  on  my  drawing,  I  was  disturbed  by  an 
unusual  number  of  people  passing  my  way  as  well  as  by 
some  shouting  behind  me.  I  turned  round  and  saw  a 
man  rushing  down  a  steep  path  leading  to  the  quay. 
He  then  sprang  into  a  boat  alongside,  hurriedly  loosened 
the  painter  and  was  about  to  push  off  when  a  second 
man,  who  had  followed  in  hot  pursuit,  also  jumped  into 
the  boat,  and  a  violent  struggle  took  place.  The 
second  man  seized  an  oar,  and  made  an  attempt  to  beat 
down  the  first  one  who,  ducking  under  the  oar,  brought 
his  head  into  his  assailant's  stomach  and  toppled  him 
into  the  water.  What  struck  me  as  very  odd  was  the 
attitude  of  the  onlookers,  who  seemed  to  take  it  as  an 
excellent  joke  ;  but  when  I  hurried  to  join  them,  the 
mystery  was  revealed  by  my  seeing  a  man  winding  up  a 
cinematograph  camera. 

Happily    Portofino    witnesses    now   tew    tragic   events 

more  stirring  than  this  !      Its  past  history  is  a  series  of 

struggles  for  the  possession  of  the  harbour.      Known  as 

Portus    Delphinus    by    the   Romans,  it   was   a    place   of 

refuge   for  their  galleons  on  their  way  to  Gaul,  and   it 

was  doubtless  also  used  in  turn   by  Phoenicians,  Greeks, 

and  Carthaginians.      After  the  fall  ot  the  Roman  Empire 

we  hear  of  its  being  in  possession  of  the  Lombards,  of  its 

seizure  by  the  Saracens,  next  of  its  being  wrested  from 

them   by   the   Genoese  and  alternately  in  the  hands  of 

Guelf  and  Ghibelline  families.       A   French  fleet  under 

Andrea  Doria  beat  the  Spanish,  led  by  Agostino  Spinola, 

and  took  possession  of  the  port,  and,  with  faction  fights 
i8 


S.   MARGHERITA 


to  fill  up  the  intervals  till  Napoleonic  times,  the  harbour 
has  been  disputed  by  French,  Spaniards,  English  and 
Austrians.  What  with  these  vicissitudes  added  to 
periodical  earthquakes,  famine  and  plague,  is  it  not  a 
wonder  that  any  oi  the  old  Ligurian  stock  should  still 
subsist  ? 

History  tells  us  that  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  took 
refuge  here  when  he  sailed  to  the  Holy  Land.  Dante's 
"Alto  Arrigo,"  the  ill-fated  Henry  VIL,  must  have 
used  this  harbour  when  in  the  Pisan  and  Genoese 
galleys  he  bore  the  Tuscan  exiles  back  to  their  province. 
Whether  Napoleon  was  actually  here  I  cannot  tell  ; 
but  he  must  have  been  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  the  position,  for  when  the  whole  of  Liguria  fell  into 
his  hands,  he  had  the  place  renamed  "  Port  Napoleon." 
After  the  fall  of  that  monarch  the  erstwhile  Genoese 
Republic  was  annexed  to  the  kingdom  of  Sardinia,  and 
Port  Napoleon  became  once  more  Portofino. 

Much  as  I  was  attracted  to  Portofino,  there  was  yet 
another  place  just  round  the  corner,  which  I  had  only 
seen  on  some  picture  post-cards  and  which  attracted  me 
still  more.  To  get  there  by  land  meant  the  best  part 
of  a  day's  excursion  by  a  drive  to  Portofino  Kulm, 
followed  by  a  break-neck  climb  down  a  mountain  path 
to  the  sea.  This  romantic  and  inaccessible  spot  is 
S.  Fruttuoso. 

The  sea  was  calm  enough  to  reflect  the  Portofino 
houses  corkscrew  fashion  in  the  harbour  ;  but  it  was 
much  too  rough  to  venture    round  the  peninsula    in  an 

T9 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

open  boat.  There  may  have  been  only  shglit  danger 
of  capsizing,  and  a  bribe  might  have  tempted  a  boatman 
to  row  me  round  the  point,  but  I  know  the  danger  of 
seasickness  too  well  to  care  to  venture  out.  The 
old  monastery  of  S.  Fruttuoso  must  wait  till  a  smooth 
sea  should  make  the  trip  to  it  more  comfortable. 

A  useful  guide  to  Rapallo  and  its  neighbourhood  by 
someone  signing  himself  "  P.  I.  A."  tells  us  that  :  "  The 
once  celebrated  monastery  of  S.  Fruttuoso,  martyr,  was 
the  cradle  of  progress  and  learning  for  all  the  neigh- 
bouring district,  and  extended  a  despotic  though 
beneficent  influence  far  and  wide."      It  goes  on  to  say  : 

After  rounding  the  Capo  di  Monte  and  following  the 
rocky  coast,  one  suddenly  comes  on  the  little  village 
hidden  in  the  heart  of  a  small  bay,  with  the  old 
monastery  and  church  rising  from  the  waters  and  sup- 
ported on  arches.  Through  these  the  mourning  barges 
used  to  sweep  in  old  times  as  they  bore  the  remains  of 
some  brave  Doria  from  Genoa  to  his  final  resting-place 
in  the  black-and-white  tombs  which  are  washed  by  the 
waters  on  which  these  heroes  gained  their  laurels." 

The  above,  as  well  as  a  vivid  description  of  someone 
else  who  had  been  there,  increased  my  impatience  for  a 
calm  day.  This  impatience  was  shared  by  an  enthusiastic 
and  talented  young  German  artist  who  also  put  up  at 
my  S.  Margherita  hotel,  and  we  both  decided  to  stay  at 
the  little  osteria  in  the  hamlet,  however  primitive  the 
accommodation  might  be.  An  advertisement  that  a 
little    steamer    would    run    (weather    permitting)    from 

20 


S.  MARGHERITA 


Rapallo,  touch  at  S.  Margherita  and  Portofino,  and  go 
on  to  S.  Fruttuoso,  returning  after  a  couple  of  hours' 
stay,  gave  us  our  chance.  But  as  many  places  which 
are  interesting  to  read  about,  and  look  tempting  in  a 
photograph,  do  not  always  lend  themselves  to  pictorial 
treatment,  we  decided  to  make  the  trip  to  see  it,  and  if 
equal  to  our  expectations  to  go  there  for  a  while  when 
the  steamer  would  make  its  second  trip. 

Our  little  voyage  was  very  pleasant  as  long  as  we 
were  under  the  lea  of  the  promontory.  There  was  an 
incessant  laugh  and  chatter  from  some  ladies,  on  board, 
till  we  reached  the  extreme  point  of  the  Portofino 
peninsula  ;  then  some  lurches  of  the  steamer  caused  a 
dead  silence.  Some  of  the  ladies  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten something  left  in  the  cabin,  a  few  more  lurches 
sent  the  rest  of  them  to  leave  more  there  ;  and  when  we 
had  rounded  the  Capo  di  Monte,  and  were  running 
under  the  windward  face  of  the  promontory,  I  wondered 
what  sins  I  could  have  ever  committed  to  deserve  such 
condign  punishment.  We  reached  the  inlet  only  some 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  later — hard  to  believe,  for  it 
seemed  a  month — and  another  ten  minutes  we  came  to 
anchor  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  convent. 

I  soon  got  over  the  nausea  of  the  sea  trip  ;  but  never 
over  the  horrible  colour  which  had  lately  been  smeared 
over  the  whole  face  of  the  building.  But  for  the  lead- 
coloured  stucco,  lately  applied,  S.  Fruttuoso  would  have 
been  one  of  the  most  romantic  and  delightful  places  to 
sketch   which    I   have  ever  struck.      There  was  nothing 

21 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

left  to  do  but  to  make  some  careful  drawings  and  try 
and  paint  the  place  as  it  might  have  been  before  its 
improvements. 

The  monastery  dates  back  to  the  twelfth  century,  the 
lower  part  of  the  buildings  corresponding  to  that  period. 
Tradition,  however,  takes  us  back  to  the  year  259, 
when  the  ashes  of  the  Saints  Fruttuoso,  Augurio  and 
Eulogio  were  brought  here  from  Tarragona  by  their 
disciples,  who,  when  they  set  sail,  looked  for  divine 
guidance  as  to  where  they  should  take  their  precious 
burdens  ;  and  we  are  also  told  that  after  two  days  an 
angel  appeared  and  pointed  to  where  they  should  dis- 
embark. A  dragon  which  for  years  had  been  the  terror 
of  that  coast  prevented  their  landing  ;  but  in  answer  to 
prayers,  invisible  hands  threw  the  dragon  into  the  sea. 
On  landing  they  found  a  spring  guarded  by  three  lions, 
which,  however,  proved  more  tractable  than  the  dragon, 
for  we  are  told  that  these  beasts  marked  out  the  site  ot 
the  church  and  then  humbly  crouched  at  the  feet  of  the 
pilgrims. 

Whatever  the  origin   of  this  Abbey  may  have  been, 

we  know  that  early  in  the  twelfth  century  a  colony  of 

Benedictine  monks  had   settled   there  and   had   built   a 

convent.      Many   wealthy  Genoese  ended  their  days  in 

this    retreat,    amongst    others,    members    of  the    Doria 

family,   the  first  of  whom  was  Martino,   the  founder  of 

the   church   of   S.  Matteo   at   Genoa,  and   who  became 

Abbot  in  1225.      Pope  Alexander  III.  was  a  guest  here 

in    I  162,  and  largely  extended  the  rights  of  the  Abbey 
22 


S.   MARGHERITA 


in  the  neighbouring  parishes.  Ere  long  the  Abbots 
were  in  the  position  oi  feudal  princes  and  could  levy 
toll  on  all  fish  caught  around  the  coasts  of  the  pro- 
montory as  well  as  on  the  game  in  which  the  forests 
abounded. 

During  the  thirteenth  century  the  crypt  of  the 
monastery  became  the  last  resting-place  ot  the  sea-faring 
members  of  the  Doria  family.  On  the  mouldering 
tombs  we  can  still  trace  the  name  of  several,  amongst 
others  that  ot  Egidio,  one  of  the  victors  of  the  battle  ot 
Meloria. 

To  use  the  words  of  Dr.  Hugh  Macmillan  :  No 
more  appropriate  burying-place  tor  a  race  ot  sea-kings 
could  be  found  than  this  lovely  monastic  solitude,  to 
whose  very  walls  the  waves  creep  up,  and  in  whose 
deserted  cloisters  the  winds  moan  over  the  glories  of 
the  past." 

''  A  place  of  tombs, 
Where  lie  the  mighty  bones  of  ancient  men, 
Old  knights ;  and  over  them  the  sea  wind  sings 
Shrill,  chill,  with  flakes  of  foam." 

We  have  seen  the  burial  place  of  Andrea  Doria  in 
Genoa  ;  but  we  are  reminded  here  of  his  activity  by  a 
tower  which  he  built  as  a  protection  against  the  corsairs, 
and  which  is  now  used  as  the  school  for  the  children  of 
the  few  poor  fisher-folk — the  only  inhabitants  of  this 
once  prosperous  abbey. 

Were    it    not  tor  the  horrible  stucco  which  has  lately 

23 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

defaced  the  sea-front  of  the  building,  S.  Fruttuoso  would 
have  been  an  ideal  place  for  an  artist  to  while  away 
some  of  the  winter  months.  The  inn  is  certainly  of 
the  humblest,  and,  although  the  food  consists  mostly 
of  fish  and  macaroni,  it  is  good  of  its  kind  as  well  as 
being  wholesome. 


24 


S.  Fruttuoso 


oioutluiTi   .t, 


.Sm. 


:%. 


%,:ik      ■» 


■^ 


■I" 


)i4 


.'( 


(-*.._ 


\\ 


CHAPTER     III 


<( 


CONCERNING    THE    HOST    AND    GUESTS    OF     THE         KAISER- 
HOF  "    AND    THE    ADVENT    OF    AN    OPERATIC    COMPANY 

A  SPELL  of  exceptionally  cold  weather  induced 
me  to  stay  on  at  S.  Margherita  much  longer 
than  1  intended.  What  work  I  could  do  had 
to  be  done  chiefly  indoors  and  the  '  chauffage  central  " 
of  my  hotel  made  this  a  possibility,  and  one  not  to  be 
had  in  the  primitive  inns  in  some  ot  the  more  pictur- 
esque coast  towns. 

It  was  curious  to  find  Russians  sitting  shivering  near 
a  radiator,  and  seldom  venturing  out  on  account  of  the 
cold.  The  ladies  were  regretting  their  furs,  and  were 
tar  from  happy  in  those  diaphanous  stockings  which 
now  leave  more  ankle  exposed  than  covered.  Letters 
from  their  homes,  describing  exceptional  snowfalls  and 
severity  of  frost,  failed  to  console  them,  for,  as  they 
remarked,  in  Russia  they  would  have  been  prepared  for 
It  by  their  heating  appliances  as  well  as  by  their  clothing 
for  outdoor  wear  ;  and  foolishly  thinking  that  it  was 
always  mild  and  sunny  down  here  they  had  left  all  their 

25 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

warm  apparel  at   home.      The   ItaHans  who  came  here 

to   escape   the  severe   weather   in  Piedmont  and   Lom- 

bardy    seemed    to   feel   the   cold  less   than  the  Russians, 

accounted   for   by   the    Italian   home   being   usually    in 

winter  as  cold  and  draughty  a   place  as  is  to  be  found 

anywhere. 

There  was  a  mixed   lot  of  nationalities,  I  being  the 

only   Englishman.      There   was  one    English    lady,  but 

she   was   the   wife   of    an    Italian,    and    doubtless    there 

would  have  been  others  had  the  hotel  not  changed   its 

name    to    "  Kaiserhof."        Not    only   do   English   and 

Germans  frequent  different   hotels,  but    in    some  places 

(San  Remo,  for  instance)    they   keep  to   different  ends 

of  the   town.        Now    if   they    met    more   often,    I  feel 

persuaded  that  the   strained  relations  we   hear   of  would 

tend    to    lessen.      A    German   gave   me   his  reasons  for 

avoiding  hotels  patronized  chiefly  by  English,  and  they 

were  :   firstly,  his  fear  of  catching  cold  from  the  windows 

being  opened  at  inopportune  times,  and  being  expected 

to   put  on  evening  dress  for  dinner,  used  as  he  was  to 

wearing  flannel  shirts  ;    secondly  it  meant  carrying  much 

more  luggage  with  him,  as  a  stock  of  evening  shirts  takes 

up  a  lot  of  space.      His  second  reason  appeals  strongly 

to  me,  for  one's  luggage  is  the  greatest  nuisance  while 

travelling   in    Italy.      None   of  it   goes   free  as  in  most 

other    countries,    and   besides    the   bother   of  having    it 

weighed     every    time   one    moves,    one   has    to    have    it 

corded  and  sealed,  even  though  the  journey  be   to   the 

next  station.      This   means  going  to  the  station  a   good 
26 


CONCERNING  THE  HOST  AND  GUESTS 

half-hour  before  the  train  is  timed  to  start,  and  should 
it  do  so  punctually,  as  has  happened  on  rare  occasions, 
one  either  misses  the  train  or  trusts  to  the  luggage  being 
sent  on  by  a  later  one,  alter  cording  and  sealing  have 
been  done  after  one's  departure. 

Relations  are  much  more  strained  between  Germans 
and  Russians  than  between  the  former  and  the  English, 
and  yet  they  are  often  found  in  the  same  hotels,  and 
manage  to  jog  on  together  very  amicably.  The  Poles 
are  sometimes  a  disturbing  element,  they  often  showing 
their  dislike  to  the  people  of  the  country  to  which  they 
happen  to  be  subjected.  Political  reasons  are  about 
the  last  which  keep  us  English  so  isolated  in  foreign 
resorts.  Few  Englishmen  speak  any  foreign  language 
beyond  a  smattering  of  French,  and  the  fear  of  appear- 
ing ridiculous  makes  them  hesitate,  more  than  others,  to 
use  the  little  they  know. 

Now  here,  in  this  cosmopolitan  hotel,  everyone, 
except  a  few  Italians,  spoke  one  or  more  languages 
besides  their  own.  Conversation  was  therefore  general  ; 
one  heard  the  views  held  by  one  lot  of  countrymen  of 
another,  social  matters  were  discussed  from  various 
social  standpoints,  manners  and  customs  of  different 
nationalities  were  compared  and  commented  on.  Many 
sentiments  expressed  would  have  startled  a  tea-party  in 
Bayswater,  still  more  one  in  Tooting  ;  but  I  can  con- 
ceive these  entertainments  as  being  very  much  duller 
than  our  gatherings  around  the  radiators  in   the   lounge 

at  the  "  Kaiserhof." 

27 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Besides  widening  our  views  oi  other  peoples,  it  is 
interesting  to  hear  the  views  they  hold  in  regard  to  us. 
These  vary,  of  course,  according  to  the  kind  of  English 
the  person  expressing  his  views  happens  to  have  met, 
but  there  are  certain  ones  held  in  common  by  most 
Continentals,  namely,  that  our  men  are  very  reserved 
and  suspicious  of  foreigners,  and  that  our  women  are 
prudes  and  are  shocked  at  remarks  a  nun  might, 
without  impropriety,  make  at  a  Sunday  school.  Poli- 
tically we  are  thought  hypocrites  when  we  advocate 
peace    and   the   abatement    of  armaments.  It  is   all 

very  well  for  you,"  they  say,  "  to  wish  things  to  remain 
as  they  are  when  you  have  absorbed  all  the  best  parts  of 
the  globe  and  left  us  only  the  desert  places  for  our 
expansion."  1  heard  this  expressed  by  a  German  and 
commented  on  by  a  Frenchman  in  the  following  words  : 
"  For  my  own  part  the  English  may  take  the  whole 
world,  Germany  included,  as  long  as  they  admit  our 
goods  free.  France  is  all-sufficing  for  us  if  only  our 
Government  would  develop  its  resources  to  the  utter- 
most ;  but  there  is  one  thing  I  object  to  in  the  English, 
and  that  is  that  wherever  they  set  their  feet  they  intro- 
duce their  infernal  whisky."  The  latter  part  of  his 
speech  was  duly  approved  by  those  present,  and  the 
Frenchman  then  took  his  departure  ;  but  before  closing 
the  door  he  amused  us  very  much  by  his  parting 
remark  :       Je  suis  negociant  de  cognac." 

Whatever   views   Continentals   may   hold   of  us,  it   is 
certain  that  they  copy  us  more  and  more.      In  matters 
28 


CONCERNING  THE  HOST  AND  GUESTS 

of  dress  it  is  now  hard  to  distinguish  an  Englishman 
from  most  well-to-do  foreigners  ;  in  sporting  circles 
every  other  term  one  hears  is  an  English  one  ;  at  table, 
knives  and  forks  are  changed  at  every  course,  and  salt 
cellars  are  no  more  spoonless  ;  le  tub  "  is  indulged  by 
many  on  rising,  and  "  le  fiv  o'clock  te  "  is  gainmg  in 
use.  Only  the  old-fashioned  tuck  their  napkins  under 
their  chins,  and  Germans  are  never  seen  eating  an  egg 
with  a  knife.  For  some  of  these  things  we  may  be 
duly  thankful  ;  but  should  this  copying  be  carried  very 
much  further,  travel  may  be  made  more  comfortable, 
but  less  entertaining. 

The  hotels  are  all  comparatively  empty  till  after 
Christmas,  and  till  then  public  entertainments  are  rare. 
The  advent  of  an  operatic  company  caused  a  sensation, 
especially  at  the  Kaiserhof,  where  two  of  the  leading 
characters  put  up.  We  had  seen  their  names  all  over 
the  town  on  posters  informing  us  that  Verdi's  Rigoletto 
would  be  performed  five  nights  in  succession  ;  it  was 
therefore  with  no  little  surprise  that  we  heard  Signore 
Da  Capo  addressing  La  Signorina  Allegretto  in  English, 
and  with  an  American  accent.  La  Signorma  was 
accompanied  by  her  mother,  and,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  the  two  ladies  were  placed  at  the  table  next  to  mine. 
I  made  some  remark  to  the  older  lady,  who  looked  up 
in  surprise  and  said  :  "  Well,  this  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
hear  some  English  again,  for  I  reckoned  you  were  one 
of  these  Italians."  When  she  was  quite  convinced  of 
my  nationality,  both   she  and  her  daughter  told  me  the 

29 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

vexations  and   often   miseries  which   fall   to   the    lot    of 
strolling  players  in  Italy. 

It  appeared  that  they  were  people  in  easy  circum- 
stances, and,  the  daughter  being  determined  to  go  on 
the  operatic  stage,  they  had  gone  to  Milan,  not  so  much 
tor  the  training,  which  might  have  been  got  in  America, 
but  to  be  enabled  to  tour  in  the  States  as  Signora 
Allegretto,  late  of  the  "  Scala  "  of  Milan.  Now  as 
leading  parts  in  the  Scala  are  not  given  to  everybody,  it 
was  advisable  to  tour  with  small  companies  in  the 
provincial  towns  so  as  to  get  practice  in  leading  parts, 
and  possibly  get  one  at  the  Scala  afterwards. 

Now  as  the  members  of  these  companies  are  nearly 
all  drawn  from  the  humblest  classes,  have  next  to  no 
education  and  are  miserably  paid,  they  are  a  strange  lot 
for  a  handsome  young  lady  ot  independent  means  to  be 
thrown  amongst.  At  every  rehearsal  the  mother  had  to 
sit  in  the  wings  so  as  not  to  lose  sight  of  her  daughter 
for  a  moment,  "  for  these  Italians  are  liable  to  get  a  bit 
fresh,'  "  as  she  put  it;  and  when  some  performances 
proved  financial  failures  both  ladies  were  besieged  by 
some  of  the  others  to  help  them  pay  their  night's 
lodging.  I  asked  if  none  of  them  were  going  to  put 
up  at  our  hotel,  which  amused  her  very  much,  for  she 
told  me  that  even  at  the  meanest  osterie  they  were 
obliged  to  pay  for  their  beds  before  using  them. 
Besides  the  actual  want  the  performers  are  often  in,  they 
are  shown  no  mercy  by  their  audiences  should  their 
part  go  amiss  through  any  fault  not  their  own. 
30 


CONCERNING  THE  HOST  AND  GUESTS 

The  ladies  had  to  hurry  off  to  attend  the  one  and 
only  rehearsal  that  the  singers  and  their  orchestra  were 
to  have  together.  Funds  did  not  allow  the  musicians 
being  brought  from  Milan,  so  they  were  collected  as 
best  they  could  in  the  neighbouring  towns.  Both  the 
Prima  Donna  and  the  tenor  were  suffering  from  colds, 
and  the  latter,  though  a  well-trained  singer,  had 
not  yet  made  his  debut  on  the  operatic  stage.  We 
saw  no  more  of  them  till  the  mid-day  meal  on  the 
following  day,  when  the  draughts  and  dust  ot  an 
atrocious  theatre  had  done  their  worst  to  increase  their 
catarrhs. 

The  various  hotels  had  guaranteed  the  finances  to 
the  extent  of  each  one  taking  a  box  ;  so  to  indemnity 
our  host,  several  of  us  took  a  four-franc  seat  in  the  one 
allotted  to  him.  Ours  was  next  to  the  stage,  which 
unfortunately  allows  one  to  see  as  much  as  goes  on  in 
the  opposite  wings  as  on  the  stage  itself.  We  had  a 
long  wait  before  we  saw  either.  The  curtain  was  billed 
to  rise  at  eight-thirty,  by  which  time  all  availing  standing 
room  was  packed  with  people,  and  we  found  a  crowd 
outside  that  could  not  possibly  cram  in.  A  few  cat- 
calls, an  imitation  of  a  pig  being  killed  and  the  mimicry 
of  other  beasts  by  some  young  geniuses  in  the  audience, 
kept  the  rest  of  it  in  good  humour  till  nine  o'clock. 
The  Maestro  not  appearing  by  that  time,  the  noise 
became  indescribable  and  reached  its  climax  when  he 
appeared  followed  by  his  orchestra.  Two  or  three  taps 
on    his    music-stand  produced  a  dead  silence,   and   half 

31 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

the  population  of  S.  Margherita  changed  from  hooHgans 
to  musical  critics. 

When  the  curtain  rose  the  audience  seemed  well 
disposed  towards  the  tenor,  who  was  a  good-looking 
fellow  and  gorgeously  attired  as  the  Grand  Duke.  His 
new  clothes  as  a  debutcmt  made  those  of  his  courtiers 
look  painfully  shabby  and  still  more  the  old  painted 
rags  doing  duty  as  the  palace  interior.  The  ludicrous 
mise-en-scene  brought  no  jeers  from  the  audience,  wisely 
aware  that  the  low  prices  ot  the  seats  could  hardly  run 
to  expensive  scenery  ;  but  no  matter  how  low  these 
prices  may  be  an  Italian  audience  will  soon  show  its 
disapprobation  of  a  singer  should  he  or  she  not  please 
them. 

Both  the  Americans  kept  time  with  the  orchestra 
more  conscientiously  than  the  Italians,  and  in  spite  of 
their  colds  they  sang  very  well.  There  was  no  hissing, 
but  neither  was  there  much  applause.  The  baritone 
who  acted  Rigoletto  had  a  powerful  voice  and  knew 
his  audience.  To  be  a  bit  out  of  time  with  the  music 
bothered  him  very  litde — that  was  the  orchestra's 
business  ;  the  Italian  knew  that  to  act  with  passion,  and 
when  necessary  sing  at  the  extreme  pitch  ot  his  voice, 
was  bound  to  bring  down  the  house,  and  his  reception 
was  as  warm  a  one  as  that  of  the  two  others  was  cold. 

We  saw  nothing  of  the  tenor  the  next  day.      It  was 

rumoured  about  the  hotel  that  he  had  packed  his  traps 

and    was    going   to    leave.       A   loud    altercation    in    his 

room    with   his    Impresario    caused  misgivings   in   those 

32 


S.   Margherita  Ligure 


new 


>ACli 


ami  ! 

.t  DO  jeers  1 1  Oil 
y  ;   but 


^   tlie 
well.  iOg, 

rone 
a  p 


rcccptiOti 


t 


h 


.1 


>l  r  ■■ 


.  ill    • 


.a    •• 


'^^ 


CONCERNING  THE  HOST  AND  GUESTS 

who  had  booked  seats  for  that  evening.  Servants  were 
cross-examined  by  the  guests  in  the  lounge,  and  every- 
thing pointed  to  the  tenor  having  struck  work.  The 
theatre  was  again  packed  at  hali-past  eight,  while  the 
tenor  still  kept  his  room.  At  nine  the  Maestro  came 
rushing  in,  calling  out  dove  il  tenore  .f*  "  On  being 
told  he  flew  up  the  stairs,  and  at  nme-thirty  he  came 
down  followed  by  his  tenor,  dressed  as  the  Grand  Duke 
though  partly  disguised  in  an  ulster. 

The  guests  who  attended  that  performance  described 
the  row  in  the  theatre  by  the  audience  who  had  been 
kept  waiting  an  hour  and  a  half  before  the  rise  of  the 
curtain.  The  tenor  had  sung  very  well  ;  but  an  Italian 
from  Genoa  had  been  billed  to  take  his  place  on  the 
following  nights. 

In  conversation  with  our  tenor  the  next  dav  some 
light  was  thrown  on  the  mystery.  It  appeared  that  the 
Impresario,  and  the  company  who  were  running  the 
show,  were  on  the  make.  They  were  willing  to  allow 
the  American  to  carry  out  his  engagement  providing  he 
would  forgo  his  payment,  and  for  a  consideration  they 
would  assure  him  plenty  of  applause.  They  made  the 
most  of  the  cold  reception  accorded  to  his  acting,  and 
pretended  that  the  audience  had  insisted  on  a  new 
tenor.  Signore  Da  Capo,  though  a  debutant  on  the 
operatic  stage,  was  not  a  stranger  to  those  who  prey  on 
his  profession,  and  proved  that  a  Yankee  could  be  as 
cute  as  them.  He  had  insisted  on  their  carrying  out 
their  agreement  and  threatened  not  to  act  that  night 
3  33 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

unless  they  did  so.  They  then  engaged  another  tenor 
from  Genoa,  trusting,  no  doubt,  that  the  American 
would  not  sue  them  tor  breach  ot  contract  and  thus 
advertise  a  professional  failure.  But  the  unforeseen 
defeated  their  machinations  ;  the  Genoese  was  pre- 
vented from  coming  that  evening,  and  they  had  to 
make  what  terms  they  could  to  satisfy  the  impatient 
audience  already  in  the  theatre.  It  ended  in  their 
having  to  pay  the  salary  of  two  tenors  for  the  next  three 
performances. 

It  was  proposed  by  some  of  the  guests  that  we  should 
turn  up  en  masse,  the  staff  of  the  hotel  included,  and 
hiss  tenor  No.  2  off  the  stage.  In  punishing  the 
Impresario  and  others  concerned  they  would  have 
inflicted  a  cruel  punishment  on  the  Genoese  singer  who 
was  in  no  way  to  blame.  I  felt  sure  that  the  American, 
who  was  in  every  sense  a  gentleman,  would  not 
wish  this,  though  he  might  appreciate  the  sympathy 
shown  him ;  and  this  being  so,  tenor  No.  2  was 
allowed  to  scream  himself  hoarse  without  any  hostile 
demonstration. 

As  the  population  of  S.  Margherita  is  under  4,000 
it  is  amazing  that  a  full  audience  could  be  got  five 
nights  running  for  the  same  opera,  especially  as  very 
few  hotel  guests  attended.  Although  the  prices  are  low 
wages  are  proportionably  so,  and  it  was  the  working 
classes  who  chiefly  crowded  the  theatre.  The  Italian 
tenor  had  caught  on,  there  was  no  "  manca  di  bravura  " 
in  his  case  ;  and  when  I  alluded  to  the  hoarseness  of  the 
34 


CONCERNING  THE  HOST  AND  GUESTS 

Prima  Donna  the  next  day  she  answered  :  I  guess 
you  would  be  hoarse  if  you  had  to  scream  at  the  top  ot 
your  voice  to  make  yourself  heard  alongside  ot  that 
steam-whistle  of  a  tenor," 

The  Italian  guests  were,  to  their  credit,  very  indignant 
at  the  way  their  countrymen  had  treated  the  American  ; 
they  were  also  amazed  at  the  cool  way  in  which  he 
took  it.  He  spent  the  remainder  ol  the  week  with  us, 
went  excursions  with  the  ladies,  and  we  all  enjoyed 
some  delighthil  music  m  the  evenings. 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  at  home  how  great  a  hold 
music  has  on  the  mass  ot  the  people  in  Italy.  Imagine 
an  Opera  Company  going  to  a  town  the  size  of  Deal 
or  Minehead,  and  the  whole  population  discussing  the 
merits  of  two  rival  tenors,  or  workmen  going  home  of 
an  evening  singing  in  parts  some  of  the  choruses.  It 
is  true  that  the  less-finished  musician  in  the  case  of  the 
tenors  was  the  more  appreciated,  but  that  is  owing  to 
the  Italians  being  a  much  more  demonstrative  people, 
and  the  manca  di  bravura  "  in  the  American  struck 
them  as  indift'erence  on  his  part.  Where  ordinary  talk 
is  accompanied  by  so  much  gesture  still  more  is 
expected  in  a  dramatic  role.  I  don't  know  whether 
this  is  an  old  story  told  me  by  an  acquaintance,  who 
assured  me  that  he  asked  some  information  of  a  railway 
porter  who  was  carrying  his  luggage  and  got  this 
answer  :  How    can    I    explain    this    when    both    my 

hands  are  engaged  ?  " 


3*  35 


CHAPTER   IV 

CHRISTMAS     AT     S.     MARGHERITA,     THE     PRESEPIO     AT     SAN 
FRANCESCO,  AND  A  FEW  WORDS  CONCERNING  THE  CONVENT 

OF  CERVARA 

CHRISTMAS  followed  the  operatic  week,  and  the 
Church  seemed  determined  that  the  faithful 
should  turn  their  thoughts  to  more  serious 
matters.  Snatches  of  chorus  from  Rigoletto  were 
drowned  during  the  eve  of  the  festival  by  the  clanging 
of  bells  from  every  steeple.  One  of  them  happened  to 
be  within  a  stone's-throw  of  my  window,  and  night 
was  made  hideous  by  the  maddening  sound  of  its  bells. 
I  began  to  have  doubts  as  to  whether  the  Italians  were  a 
musical  people,  for  the  bells  don't  harmonize,  and  there 
is  no  attempt  at  a  peal  as  we  understand  it  at  home. 
Small  boys  keep  up  this  din  by  banging  the  clappers 
against  the  bells  without  the  least  regard  to  time  or 
harmony.  It  is  said  that  the  noise  keeps  the  evil 
spirits  away,  and  I  should  have  thought  most  people 
would  prefer  the  spirits  as  the  lesser  evil — it  certainly 
kept  ofF  all  sleep.  Had  the  noise  been  continuous  one 
might  have  slept  through  a  part  of  it  ;  but  it  would 
36 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.   MARGHERITA 

cease  long  enough  to  allow  the  boy  to  descend  from  his 
perch  till  he  was  replaced  by  another,  who  coming  fresh 
to  his  work  seemed  determined  to  outdo  the  last  in 
noise-making.  Dingle,  dingle,  dingle,  this  went  on  in 
an  irregular  jerky  manner  while  a  tired  boy  m  another 
steeple  laboured  at  another  clapper  just  half  a  tone 
lower.  Services  must  have  been  going  on  all  night, 
and  there  were  few  pauses  on  the  following  day. 

Christmas  comes  more  suddenly  on  one  in  Italy  than 
at  home,  where  great  displays  of  butcher's  meat  and  dead 
turkeys  prepare  the  just  and  the  unjust  for  the  coming 
feast.  Until  awakened  by  this  horrible  noise  I  was  not 
aware  that  the  eve  of  the  "  Natale  "  had  come. 

I  walked  over  to  Rapallo  in  the  morning  to  attend 
the  service  at  the  Anglican  church.  I  passed  some 
groups  of  Germans  near  their  Lutheranische  Kirche  " 
and  heard  them  wishing  each  other  Gesegnete 
Hochzeit."  The  "  Merry  Christmas  "  greeted  my  ear  as 
I  approached  the  litde  English  church,  and  what  with 
the  fresh  English  faces  around  me,  the  evergreen 
decorations,  and  the  familiar  Christmas  hymns,  it  was 
hard  to  believe  I  was  not  in  England  once  more  ;  but 
where  were  the  familiar  faces  dear  to  me  ? 

Cold  and  bleak  as  it  often  is  during  our  Christmas- 
tide,  I  pity  the  Englishman  who  passes  it  abroad  with- 
out a  pang  of  home-sickness.  A  spell  of  fine  weather 
had  succeeded  a  series  of  cold  and  wet  days,  the  Riviera 
was  looking  what  the  advertisements  try  in  vain  to  paint 
it,  but  I  would  willingly  have  exchanged  that  day  for  a 

37 


AN   ARTIST  IN   THE   RIVIERA 

sloppy  one  in  Surrey  had  some  good  fairy  been  able  to 
translate  me  there. 

Our  landlady  being  a  German,  Christmas  was  kept  at 
the  Kaiserhof  as  in  the  Fatherland.  There  was  a 
Christmas-tree  with  the  usual  trimmings  :  candles,  glass 
baHs,  and  tinsel,  with  presents  for  relations  and  members 
of  the  household.  There  was  an  interminable  dinner 
at  seven,  in  which  the  turkey  was  a  mere  incident  and 
the  plum  pudding  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  Healths 
of  Kaiser,  Czar,  Re  Emanuele,  and  President  Tatt  were 
drunk  in  Asti  Spumante,  and  in  my  special  honour 
those  of  King  George  and  Queen  Mary.  Songs 
patriotic  and  sentimental,  chiefly  German  and  Russian, 
large  glasses  of  Munich  beer,  conjuring  tricks  and  recita- 
tions, helped  to  pass  a  very  pleasant  evening. 

The  presepio  {i.e.  manger),  displayed  annually  at  the 
Franciscan  convent,  is  the  prettiest  I  have  ever  seen  in 
Italy.  On  a  good-sized  stage  in  a  room  adjoining  the 
church,  the  scene  at  the  grotto  at  Bethlehem  is  por- 
trayed in  the  same  spirit  as  the  Primitives  would  have 
treated  it.  The  anachronisms  in  the  costumes  and  back- 
ground as  well  as  the  introduction  of  successive  incidents 
in  the  one  picture  is  thoroughly  quattrocento.  And  this 
is  done  with  no  affectation,  but  in  the  same  reverent 
spirit  in  which  these  poor  monks  have  annually  pre- 
pared this  children's  treat  since  the  order  was  first 
established  here.  There  is  a  childishness  about  it  which 
makes  a  direct  appeal  to  the  children,  and  it  is  not  lost 
on  the  humble  grown-up  folk  who  flock  to  see  it. 
38 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.   MARGHERITA 

The  Virgin  Mary  is  gorgeously  robed,  and  with  the 
Child  Jesus  on  her  lap  she  is  seated  on  a  litde  throne 
in  front  of  the  manger,  with  the  ox  and  the  ass  standing 
like  acolytes  on  each  side.  Elaborate  halos  of  tinsel 
and  coloured  beads  crown  the  heads  of  the  three 
personages  of  the  Holy  Family.  St.  Joseph,  who  stoops 
in  an  attitude  of  adoration,  has  his  halo  so  balanced  that 
it  should  not  fall  over  his  nose.  The  little  wax  candles, 
the  glass  balls  and  tinsel  adorning  the  grotto,  reminded 
me  too  much  of  the  Kaiserhot  Christmas-tree  ;  but  no 
incongruity  seemed  to  strike  the  faithful  who  gathered 
there.  The  shepherds  are  clad  in  sheep-skin  jackets,  as 
may  still  be  seen  in  the  Abbruzzi  Mountains  or  in 
Palestine.  The  sheep  are  unusually  large,  being  little 
smaller  than  the  ox  or  the  ass,  but  we  must  not  be  too 
critical  in  the  matter  of  proportion.  Dotted  about  the 
space  in  front  of  the  grotto  are  Italian  contadi?ii  and 
many  other  available  costumed  figures — one  with  a 
distinct  cut  of  Napoleon  I.  about  him  ;  others  had 
doubtless  served  in  their  time,  round  now  disused  altars, 
as  saints  and  martyrs  ;  but  a  fresh  coat  of  paint  and 
some  bits  of  costume  had  converted  them  into  those 
little  Italian  images  to  be  seen  in  most  countries,  except 
perhaps  in  Palestine. 

The  arrangement  of  the  background  is  most  ingenious. 
The  distant  Apennines  top  some  village-crested  nearer 
hills,  and  with  the  aid  of  mirrors  the  actual  sea  and 
coast  is  brought  within  the  picture. 

A    rostrum    stands    near    the    stage,    and    from    this 

39 


AN  ARTIST  IN   THE   RIVIERA 

children  recite  verses  in  honour  ot  the  Bambino.  After 
each  recitation  the  child  would  deposit  some  little 
offering  on  the  stage,  and  as  the  puppets  vary  in  size 
from  one  to  two  feet  the  oranges  thrown  amongst  them 
seemed  colossally  large.  Reverence  changed  to  loud 
laughter  when  an  over-zealous  little  girl  bowled  over 
one  of  the  sheep  with  a  lemon. 

The  presepio  was  on  view  from  Christmas  until  the 
Epiphany,  and  on  the  latter  festival  the  three  Magi  are 
introduced.  This  was  the  climax :  Caspar,  Melchior, 
and  Balthasar,  in  gorgeous  apparel,  knelt  in  adoration 
before  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  Child.  Swarthy  retainers, 
ladies  with  gifts,  and  camels  with  their  drivers  followed  in 
their  train.  I  had  forgotten  the  star.  The  ingenious 
monk  had  called  in  modern  science,  and  by  means  of 
an  electric  light  gave  us  a  star  of  exceptional  bril- 
liance, and  also  lighted  thereby  the  dark  parts  of  the 
grotto. 

An  Italian  friend  introduced  me  to  some  of  the 
monks,  and  before  being  taken  over  the  monastery  we 
were  obliged  to  drink  some  wine,  grown  and  pressed  on 
the  premises.  The  present  buildings  and  church  only 
date  from  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  but 
stand  on  the  site  of  a  much  earlier  convent.  Those 
monks  of  old  knew  how  to  choose  a  site  ;  from  the 
terraced  garden  with  a  southern  aspect,  as  well  as  from 
most  of  the  cells,  they  get  a  magnificent  view  of  the  sea 
and  coast.  They  also  had  the  protection  of  the  castle, 
the  remains  of  which  adjoin  them,  and,  above  all,  they 
40 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.   MARGHERITA 

found  a  copious  water-supply — no  small  matter  this  in 
places  so  often  besieged. 

After  the  suppression  ot  the  monasteries  the  buildings 
were  bought  by  Prmce  Centurione,  and  given  back  to 
the  brotherhood.  The  huge  Villa  Centurione  and  its 
spacious  grounds  are  on  the  hill  overlooking  the 
convent. 

Frate  Luigi  showed  us  all  over  the  premises ;  he 
pointed  out  the  trees  which  bore  the  heaviest  crops,  and 
the  speckled  hen  that  laid  on  an  average  four  eggs  a 
week.  Some  precocious  blossom  on  an  old  pear-tree 
filled  him  with  delight,  not  so  much  in  the  promise  ot 
spring,  as  in  its  being  the  first  one  in  that  neighbourhood 
to  bloom.  Though  he  daily  went  outside  on  his 
beggmg  rounds,  little  beyond  the  convent  walls  had 
much  interest  tor  him. 

My  friend  had  introduced  me  as  the  greatest  living 
painter  and  a  writer  seldom  equalled  since  the  days  ot 
Dante.  I  think  he  allowed  a  bit  tor  the  sHght  exaggera- 
tion of  my  triend,  but  thought  it,  nevertheless,  incum- 
bent on  him  to  get  me  to  inspect  all  the  pictures  as  well 
as  the  books  in  the  library.  There  we  saw  the  familiar 
Franciscan  saints,  kneeling  with  a  skull  in  their  hands 
and  a  hatchet  sticking  in  their  heads.  Blackened 
canvases,  in  fly-spotted  frames,  depicted  the  torture  ot 
an  early  Christian,  or  the  same  Christian  being  carried 
by  angels  to  a  dirty-yellow  light  on  some  brown  clouds. 
The  books  were  more  interesting  on  account  ot  their 
old    covers  and    the    illumination   of   the    initial   letters. 

41 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

But  what  food  tor  the  mind  !  When  we  consider  that 
such  convents  were,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  seats  of 
learning,  and  that  little  scholarship  existed  outside  their 
walls,  it  is  sad  to  think  of  the  mental  starvation  of  these 
present  monks.  And  these  Capuchins  are  even  better 
off  than  many  others  who  rarely  go  out  into  the  world  ; 
for  if  their  intellect  be  little  exercised  their  visits  to 
the  poor  and  needy  do  at  all  events  widen  their 
sympathies. 

I  paid  this  convent  several  visits  for  the  purpose  of 
making  some  studies  in  the  garden  ;  I  always  found  the 
monks  most  courteous  and  obliging.  My  work  has  often 
brought  me  in  contact  with  Italian  ecclesiastics,  and  I 
cannot  endorse  Dickens'  description  of  them  in  his 
delightful  Pictures  from  Italy,"  where  he  says  :  "  The 
streets  of  Genoa  would  be  all  the  better  for  the  importa- 
tion of  a  few  priests  of  prepossessing  appearance.  Every 
fourth  or  fifth  man  in  the  street  is  a  priest  or  a  monk  ; 
and  there  is  pretty  sure  to  be  at  least  one  itinerant 
ecclesiastic  inside  or  outside  every  hackney  carriage  in 
the  neighbourhood.  I  have  no  knowledge,  elsewhere, 
of  more  repulsive  countenances  than  are  to  be  found 
among  these  gentry.  If  Nature's  handwriting  be  at  all 
legible,  greater  varieties  of  sloth,  deceit,  and  intellectual 
torpor  could  hardly  be  observed  among  any  class  of  men 
in  the  world." 

Now  this  was  written  in  1846,  and  it  is  hardly 
credible  that  in  as  conservative  an  institution  as  the 
Church  of  Rome  those  who  exercise  its  functions  should 
42 


Entrance  to  the  Villa   Centurione. 
S.  Margherita   Ligure 


5T5    ol    '^     '   . 


•IS    \v, 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.  MARGHERITA 

have  changed  very  much  in  so  short  a  time.  He  makes 
some  exception  for  the  Cappucini,  of  whom  he  writes  : 
"  Though  not  a  learned  body,  they  are,  as  an  order, 
the  best  friends  of  the  people.  They  seem  to  mingle 
with  them  more  immediately,  as  their  counsellors  and 
comforters  ;  and  to  go  among  them  more  when  they 
are  sick  ;  and  to  pry  less  than  some  other  orders  into 
the  secrets  of  families  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a 
baneful  ascendancy  over  their  weaker  members  ;  and  to 
be  influenced  by  a  less  fierce  desire  to  make  converts,  and, 
once  made,  to  let  them  go  to  ruin,  soul  and  body. 
They  may  be  seen,  in  their  coarse  dress,  in  all  parts  of 
the  town  at  all  times,  and  begging  in  the  markets  early 
in  the  morning.  The  Jesuits,  too,  muster  strong  in  the 
streets,  and  go  slinking  noiselessly  about,  in  pairs,  like 
black  cats." 

This  is  surely  too  severe  an  indictment.  Keen 
observer  as  was  Dickens,  a  year's  sojourn  in  Italy  had 
not  sufficed  to  clear  his  mind  of  insular  prejudice.  He 
spoke  little  Italian  and  probably  had  little  intercourse 
with  any  of  them.  There  certainly  is  intellectual 
torpor  "  amongst  the  friars  as  well  as  amongst  the  village 
clergy,  as  many  a  cultured  priest  I  have  met  would  be 
the  first  to  allow\  But  does  this  apply  particularly  to 
Italy  ?  Uncultured  as  the  village  priest  often  is,  he  is 
still  far  more  educated  than  his  parishioners,  and  the 
wonder  is  that  so  many  intelligent  men  are  to  be  had, 
who,  for  a  starvation  wage,  will  bury  themselves  in 
remote  parishes, 

43 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

The  "  fierce  desire  to  make  converts  "  that  Dickens 
and  many  others  accuse  them  of  is,  after  all,  one  of  the 
duties  of  anyone  who  undertakes  a  cure  of  souls,  be  he 
Protestant  or  Catholic. 

There  is  no  spot  in  S.  Margherita  which  would 
tempt  me  more  to  return  there  than  the  convent  garden 
at  S.  Francesco  ;  but  not  in  mid  winter,  for  although 
the  sun  had  sufficient  power  to  coax  some  blossoms  on 
the  pear-tree,  ice  lay  crisp  in  the  shadows  of  the  terrace 
walls.  It  was  just  possible  to  work  there  while  the  sun 
made  diapers  on  the  pergola-covered  walks  ;  but,  when 
once  he  sank  behind  Portofino,  sketching  had  to  be 
abandoned.  The  time  here  would  be  when  spring  had 
fulfilled  its  promise,  or  in  the  fall  when  the  trailing  vines 
were  heavy  with  purple  clusters. 

A  much  more  important  monastery  than  S.  Francesco 
is  that  of  Cervara,  situated  about  a  mile  from  S. 
Margherita,  on  the  Portofino  road.  It  looked  very 
attractive  from  a  distance,  rising  as  it  does  above  a  grand 
mass  of  stone  pines  on  a  ledge  in  the  precipitous  rocks, 
its  tower  and  batdements  suggesting  a  stronghold  more 
than  a  conventual  building.  Great  was,  however,  my 
disappointment  when,  after  a  climb  up  to  the  terrace  on 
which  it  stands,  I  found  what  was  apparently  a  new 
building,  stuccoed  over,  and  with  sham  joints  neatly 
squared  so  as  to  suggest  well-faced  blocks  of  stone  ; 
parts  were  painted  to  represent  brickwork  and  painted 
machicolations  bordered  the  gable  of  the  chapel. 
Could  this  be  the  famous  Cervara  where  St.  Catherine 
44 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.   MARGHERITA 

stayed  on  her  journey  to  Avignon  ?  Where  Gregory  XI. 
celebrated  his  first  mass  on  Italian  soil,  after  Catherine 
had  induced  him  to  return  to  Rome  ?  Where  John 
of  Austria  found  hospitality  after  his  victorious  fight  at 
Lepanto,  and  where  Francis  I.  was  carried  a  prisoner 
after  his  defeat  at  Pavia  ? 

The  church  was  closed  and  no  one  seemed  about 
from  whom  I  could  get  some  information.  I  saw 
nothing  I  wanted  to  pamt  except  some  of  the  pines,  and 
the  peeps  of  the  sea  beyond  ;  but  no  need  to  climb  up 
to  Cervara  for  that. 

I  looked  up  Cervara  in  local  guide-books  and  doubt- 
less it  is  the  same  ancient  monastery  ;  but  restored  in 
1872  under  the  supermtendence  of  Padre  Eugenio 
Vairo.  Dedicated  to  S.  Gerolamo  della  Cervara,  the 
convent  was  founded  in  1361  and  built  by  Guido 
Scetten,  the  Archbishop  of  Genoa  and  intimate  friend  of 
Petrarch.  In  1364  a  Benedictine  brotherhood  was 
established,  which  Scetten  joined  ;  and  in  the  frequent 
companionship  of  Petrarch  the  archbishop  here  ended 
his  days. 

A  tablet  in  one  of  the  rooms  records  the  fact  that 
Francis  I.  remained  there  as  a  prisoner  in  1525  until 
Charles  V.  had  him  conveyed  to  Madrid.  Dr.  Hugh 
Macmillan  tells  us  that  :  "  Andrea  Doria,  who  had 
been  the  admiral  of  the  French  monarch  during  his  war 
with  the  Emperor,  and  had  made  the  French  name 
predominant  in  the  Mediterranean,  was  resting  with  his 
fleet    at    Portofino,    not    two    miles    distant,    and    coidd 

45 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

easily  have  released  his  royal  master  from  his  prison,  if 
he  had  wished.  But  the  great  Genoese  admiral  had 
other  designs,  and  transferred  his  services  to  Pope 
Clement  VII.  while  Francis  I.  was  left  in  his  prison 
until  the  arrival  of  the  vessels  which  conveyed  him  to 
Spain." 

Doria  seems  to  have  changed  masters  with  as  little 
compunction  as  did  the  co?idottie}~i  of  the  previous 
century.  Whether  France  or  Spain  reigned  supreme  in 
the  Mediterranean  was  probably  equally  hateful  to  him, 
and  he  gave  his  services  to  whichever  side  might  at  the 
time  be  most  beneficial  to  the  Genoese  Republic. 

As  this  Benedictme  monastery  rose  in  importance 
that  of  S.  Fruttuoso  declined.  Its  reforming  influence 
was  felt  in  all  the  monastic  establishments  on  the 
Ligurian  coast.  It  was  suppressed  by  the  Genoese 
revolutionaries  in  1799,  and  five  years  later  it  was 
reopened  and  given  to  the  Trappists.  Napoleon  at 
first  subsidized  the  latter  ;  but  shortly  afterwards 
relegated  them  to  the  island  of  Caprera.  Deserted  for 
more  than  half  a  century,  Cervara  fell  into  decay,  and 
its  present  habitable  state  is  due  to  the  gimcrack 
restorations  of  Padre  Eugenio  Vairo,  of  whom  we  have 
spoken.  It  is  now  occupied  by  French  monks  of  a 
sub-order  of  the  Benedictines. 

The  square  tower,  made  to  look  a  sham  by  stupid 
restoration,  dates  from  the  same  period  as  a  similar  one 
at  S.  Fruttuoso,  namely,  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century.      A  revival  of  Saracen  aggression  is  the  cause  of 


CHRISTMAS  AT  S.   MARGHERITA 

so  many  of  these  later  towers  seen  on  this  coast.  The 
disgraceful  alliance  of  Francis  I.  with  the  Turks  may 
have  led  to  the  renewed  activity  of  the  Saracens  alter 
the  war  between  Empire  and  Monarchy  had  subsided. 
Andrea  Doria  was  then  in  the  service  ot  neither  party 
and  could  happily  devote  his  powers  to  combating  the 
fresh  peril.  The  neighbouring  town  ot  Rapallo  appears 
to  have  fared  worse  than  the  others  ;  but  we  will  deter 
that  town  to  another  chapter. 


47 


CHAPTER  V 

RAPALLO    AND    ITS    STORY  ;     THE    CHURCH    OF    S.    MICHELE 
AND  THE  VAN  DYCK  WHICH  IT  CONTAINS 

IF  we  look  at  our  maps  we  will  see  Rapallo  tucked  in 
the   eastern   angle   at   the   base    of  the   promontory 

of  Portofino  ;  which  promontory  with  the  main 
coast  forms  the  Gulf  ot  Tigullio,  now  generally  called 
the  Gulf  of  Rapallo.  As  seen  from  the  sea  one  might 
suppose  (were  it  not  for  the  old  castle  which  rises  from 
the  water)  that  the  town  had  been  built  by  speculative 
hotel  companies  during  the  last  twenty  years.  But  in 
reality  Rapallo  has  been  in  existence  as  long  as  the 
Christian  era.  The  Aurelian  road  ran  along  this  coast 
for  a  century  before  Christ,  and  it  was  not  long  before  a 
Ligurian  tribe,  known  as  the  Tigulli,  formed  a  settle- 
ment here.  The  Rapallesi  until  recently  claimed  that 
their  town  was  on  the  site  of  ancient  Tigullia  ;  but 
archsologists  now  prove  that  to  have  been  further  east 
near  the  present  town  of  Chiavari.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  doubt  as  to  the  origin  of  this  people,  though  the 
theory  that   it   was   of  Iberian   stock   is   gaining  ground. 

48 


RAPALLO   AND  ITS  STORY 


Of  their  struggles  to  maintain  their  uidependence  against 
Rome  history  relates  little  except  that  they  espoused  the 
cause  of  Hannibal  during  the  second  Punic  war.  But 
if  history  tells  us  litde,  legendary  tales  abound,  and, 
needless  to  say,  all  to  the  credit  of  these  people. 

During  the  reign  of  Augustus,  Liguria  formed  the 
ninth  of  the  eleven  districts  into  which  Italy  was 
divided.  It  was  made  a  consulate  at  the  time  of 
Constantine  and  remained  as  such  till  the  break-up  of 
the  Western  Empire. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  century  the  parish 
church  of  Rapallo  was  built  by  Onorato,  Bishop  of 
Milan,  who,  driven  out  of  this  diocese  by  the  Lombards, 
had  taken  refuge  in  Genoa.  The  Eastern  Emperor 
gave  him  temporal  power  over  the  promontory  of 
Portofino,  and  he  received  spiritual  power  over  the  same 
district  from  the  Pope.  It  is  said  that  he  was  buried 
at  Noceto,  a  prettily  situated  village  which  lies  between 
Rapallo  and  Recco  ;  but  being  canonized  after  his 
death,  one  of  the  Visconti  had  his  body  removed,  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  to  Milan,  where  it  now  lies  in  the 
church  of  S.  Eustorgio. 

The  history  of  Rapallo  is  soon  after  merged  into  that 
of  Genoa,  with  which  Republic  it  was  at  first  allied  and 
by  which  it  was  later  absorbed.  This  was  at  first  of 
great  advantage,  for  independently  the  little  town  could 
not  defend  itself  against  the  attacks  of  the  Barbary 
pirates  who  infested  this  coast  ;  but  it  had  to  pay  for 
this  later  on  by  incurring  the  hostility  of  Pisa.  For 
4  49 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

more  than  two  centuries  the  coast  from  Rapallo  to  the 
harbour  of  Portofino  was  harassed  by  the  Pisans.  The 
Mediterranean  did  not  seem  large  enough  for  two  such 
sea  powers  as  Genoa  and  Pisa,  and  until  the  latter  was 
finally  crushed  by  the  Genoese  fleet  at  the  battle  of 
Meloria  in  1284,  the  Rapallesi  fared  nearly  as  badly  by 
the  Pisans  as  by  the  hands  of  the  Barbary  corsairs. 
This  new  enemy  attacked  the  town  in  1079,  set  ^re  to 
it,  and  after  killing  many  of  the  inhabitants  carried 
others  away  captive,  both  men  and  women. 

The  excellent  guide,  Rapallo  :  Past  and  Present," 
gives  us  some  details  of  the  battle  of  Meloria  which 
ensured  a  peaceful  time  to  the  Rapallesi  until  they  began 
quarrelling  amongst  themselves.  '  In  1284,"  it  says, 
Alberto  Morosini,  admiral  of  the  Pisan  fleet,  entered 
the  Gulf  of  Genoa,  seized  merchant  ships,  defied  the 
towns,  and  sacked  Rapallo.  Morosini  was  a  nephew  of 
the  Doge  of  Venice.  He  had  been  elected  podesta  of 
Pisa  as  well  as  admiral.  In  his  fleet  were  Loto  and 
Anselmo,  sons  of  that  Conte  Ugolino  della  Gherardesca 
of  whose  tragic  death  Dante  gives  a  touching  description 
in  the  thirtieth  canto  of  the  Inferno.  Ugolino  fought 
in  the  fatal  battle  of  Meloria,  deserting  the  Pisan  fleet  at 
a  critical  moment.  Thirty  Genoese  galleys  under  Bene- 
detto Zaccharia,  and  eighty  under  Oberto  Doria,  repaired 
to  Pisa,  having  previously  met  ofT  the  promontory  of 
Portofino.  At  the  rock  of  Meloria  the  Pisans  and 
Genoese  waged  fierce  battle  for  the  supremacy  of  the 
waves.  Every  kind  of  weapon  and  artifice  was  used  in 
so 


RAPALLO  AND  ITS  STORY 


the  light — Hme,  burning  oil  and  soap,  stones  and  darts  ; 
but  in  spite  of  the  splendid  resistance  made  by  the 
Pisans  victory  remained  with  the  Genoese.  Half  the 
Pisan  fleet  was  destroyed,  the  Admiral  Morosini  with 
the  standard  and  seal  of  the  commune  was  taken  ;  and 
so  great  a  number  of  Pisan  prisoners  filled  the  dungeons 
of  Genoa,  that  the  popular  saying  arose.  To  see  Pisa 
you  must  go  to  Genoa.'  Egidio  Doria,  one  of  the 
victors  of  Meloria,  lies  buried  at  S.  Fruttuoso." 

We  are  also  told  that  in  1293  ^^^^  English  em- 
bassy on  the  way  to  the  Khan  of  Persia  stayed  at 
Rapallo. 

The  peace  in  Genoa  was  constantly  disturbed  by  the 
faction  fights  between  the  Guelflc  and  Ghibelline 
families  :  the  Fieschi  and  Grimaldi  of  the  former,  and 
the  Doria  and  Spinola  of  the  latter.  The  feuds  had 
their  echo  in  Rapallo,  where  families  related  to  those 
in  Genoa  took  up  the  quarrel.  The  townspeople  were 
Guelfs,  and,  as  an  instance  of  the  bitterness  between  the 
factions,  we  are  told  by  a  chronicler  how  in  13 19, 
when  some  Ghibelline  galleys  were  wrecked  in  the  port 
of  Rapallo,  the  inhabitants  massacred  their  crews.  An 
opportunity  for  making  common  cause  occurred  in  1432, 
when  a  Venetian  fleet  came  and  harried  their  coast. 
Shordy  after  this  they  were  drawn  into  the  war  between 
Alfonso  of  Aragon  and  Louis  of  Anjou,  who  were  con- 
tending for  the  throne  of  Naples.  Filippo  Visconti, 
Duke  of  Milan,  was  then  all-powerful  in  Genoa,  and 
had  espoused  the  cause  of  Anjou.  Biagio  Assareto 
4*  51 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

(a  native  of  the  village  ot  S.  Qiiirico,  a  tew  miles  from 
Rapallo)  was  the  admiral  who  defeated  Alfonso  at  Gaeta, 
and  took  him  captive  to  Genoa,  as  well  as  his  brother 
John,  King  of  Navarre. 

A  series  of  disputes  between  the  Fregosi,  the  Fieschi, 
and  the  Adorni  kept  things  lively  during  the  second  half 
of  the  century.  It  was  perhaps  in  1494  that  Rapallo 
suffered  most,  and  owing  to  a  war  with  which  it  had 
little  concern.  Charles  VIII.  of  France  had  advanced 
into  Italy,  at  the  invitation  of  Ludovico  Sforza,  to  wrest 
the  throne  of  Naples  from  Alfonso  of  Aragon.  Bought 
over  by  France  as  well  as  the  Duke  of  Milan,  Genoa 
aided  the  enterprise.  Frederick,  son  of  King  Alfonso, 
sailed  to  Genoa  to  attack  that  city  with  his  Neapolitan 
troops  ;  but  failing  in  this,  he  proceeded  to  Rapallo,  and 
early  in  September  he  landed  Obietto  Fieschi  with  three 
or  four  thousand  infantry.  This  Obietto  Fieschi,  who 
was  fighting  for  the  Aragonese,  was  a  brother  to  Gian 
Luigi  Fieschi,  who  was  on  the  French  side. 

I  will  quote  what  follows  from  the  Rapallo  guide,  to 
which  I  am  indebted  for  many  of  the  facts  already 
given  : 

"  The  Duke  of  Orleans  had  arrived  in  Genoa  with 
strong  contingents  of  French  and  Swiss  troops,  and  with 
the  Milanese  governor  decided  on  the  attack  of  Rapallo, 
where  the  enemy  lay.  On  September  7th  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  left  Genoa  and  drove  Frederick  of  Aragon  back 
towards  Livorno.  At  the  same  time  troops  under  the 
Governor  Adorno  marched  from  Genoa  to  reinforce 
52 


RAPALLO  AND  ITS  STORY 


Orleans,  approaching  Rapallo  by  Ruta  and  S.  Maria  del 

Campo. 

"  A  fierce  batde  ensued,  the  advantage  lying  first  with 
one  side  and  then  with  the  other,  until  the  peasants  ot 
the  district  (partisans  of  the  Adorno),  attacking  the 
Aragonese  from  the  heights,  forced  them  to  take  cover 
behind  the  palisades.  Obietto  Fieschi  continued  a 
brave  fight,  but  the  arrival  of  the  Swiss  soldiers  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Boato  gave  the  finishing  blow  to  the 
wavering  men,  who  were  seized  by  panic  and  fled, 
pursued  by  the  enemy.  Two  hundred  Neapolitans  and 
Aragonese  were  killed  in  the  fight — not  a  small  number, 
considering  the  manner  of  warfare  in  those  days.  But 
a  horrible  massacre  took  place  at  Rapallo.  The  French 
and  the  Swiss  went  through  the  town  sacking  and 
killing,  and  even  broke  into  the  hospital  of  S.  Antonio, 
where  they  slaughtered  fifty  poor  sick  people — mostly 
lepers — who  were  lying  there.  Giovanni  Adorno,  trying 
to  pacify  their  fury,  nearly  had  his  throat  cut.  With  a 
few  followers  Obietto  Fieschi  took  refuge  in  the  hills, 
where  he  awaited  help  from  his  vassals  ot  Fontanabuona  ; 
but  the  rumour  spreading  of  the  speedy  approach  of  his 
brother  Gian  Luigi  with  800  soldiers,  he  was  abandoned 
by  his  own  people." 

It  seems  singularly  hard  on  the  Rapallesi  that  they 
should  have  been  so  badly  served  by  Charles'  troops, 
seeing  that  they  had  espoused  his  cause. 

The  French  met  few  obstacles  during  their  victorious 
march    through    Central    Italy,    and    tor    a    time    they 

53 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

occupied  Naples.  Italy,  however,  soon  discovered  that 
in  welcoming  Charles  VIII.  and  his  troops  it  was 
little  more  than  a  change  of  masters.  The  Italian 
states  formed  a  league  to  oppose  them,  including 
the  Duke  ot  Milan,  who  had  invited  the  French 
monarch. 

During  the  struggle  to  get  rid  of  their  new  masters  a 
French  fleet  came  to  Rapallo  and  occupied  it.  Genoa 
came  to  its  assistance  and  sent  eight  galleys  under  the 
command  of  Francesco  Spinola,  who  not  only  routed 
the  French  garrison,  but  also  destroyed  their  fleet. 

A  visit  from  the  Emperor  Maximilian  followed  soon 
after  the  expulsion  of  the  French,  and  for  a  year  or  two 
the  Empire  was  all-powerful  in  Italy  ;  but  in  1499  the 
lilies  of  France  were  seen  once  more  on  the  walls  of  the 
communal  palace. 

The  Genoese  government  had  sworn  fealty  to  the 
successor  of  Charles  VIII.,  Louis  XII.  Every  town  on 
the  Riviera  which  was  dependent  on  Genoa  broke  out 
in  open  rebellion,  and  in  Genoa  itself  there  was  a  grow- 
ing anti-French  party.  This  reached  a  climax  in  i  5  i  2, 
when  the  French  were  turned  out,  and  the  Genoese 
Republic  was  restored. 

Now  follows  the  struggle  between  Francis  I.  and 
Charles  V.,  Italy  still  being  the  bone  of  contention. 
We  have  alluded,  in  the  last  chapter,  to  the  part  Andrea 
Doria  took  in  this  struggle  and  how  he  became  supreme 
in  the  councils  of  the  Republic. 

The    comparative    peace    enjoyed    by    the    people    of 
54 


RAPALLO  AND  ITS  STORY 


Rapallo  was  rudely  disturbed  on  the  night  ot  the  6th  of 
July,   1549. 

Dragut — a  name  which  mothers  still  use  to  frighten 
their  children — who  fought  under  Barbarossa,  Dey  oi 
Algiers,  and  the  scourge  ot  the  Mediterranean  during  a 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  landed  in  Rapallo  while  the 
inhabitants  were  peaceably  sleeping  in  their  beds.  He 
and  his  fellow  pirates  laid  waste  the  town,  slaughtering 
all  who  resisted,  and  carried  off  men,  women  and 
children  to  be  sold  in  the  African  slave-markets. 
Emboldened  bv  their  success  similar  descents  were 
periodically  made  on  one  or  other  of  the  Riviera 
towns.  "  Night  after  night,"  we  are  told,  the  lurid 
watch-fires  blazed  far  into  the  darkness  on  the  beacon 
towers  along  the  coast,  whose  ruins  add  so  much  to  the 
quaint  charm  of  the  Ligurian  towns,  warning  the 
inhabitants  that  the  dreaded  toe  was  near  and  might  at 
any  moment  land." 

Dragut  was  captured,  in  the  Gulf  of  Giralatta  in 
Corsica,  by  Gianettino  Doria,  the  adopted  son  of 
Andrea.  Many  captives  were  liberated,  and  many  of  the 
pirate  dhows  were  destroyed  ;  but  in  a  weak  moment 
Gianettino  released  Dragut  on  payment  of  a  large 
ransom  ;  and  before  long  he  and  his  corsairs  were  even 
a  greater  terror  to  the  coast  than  before.  It  was  time 
now  for  Andrea  Doria  to  act.  In  spite  ot  his  great  age, 
he  girt  his  armour,  and  at  the  head  of  an  adequate  fleet 
he  gave  chase  to  the  pirates.  Driven  from  place  to 
place,  Doria  brought  them  to  bay  in  the  harbour  of  the 

55 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

island  of  Gerbe,  and,  satisfied  that  he  held  them  fast 
here,  he  deferred  his  final  settlement  with  them  till  the 
following  morning.  One  can  imagine  his  surprise  on 
awaking  to  find  that  the  corsair  galleys  had  disappeared. 
Under  cover  of  darkness  Dragut  had  mounted  his 
galleys  on  wheels  and  transported  them  across  the  island 
and  sailed  away  from  the  opposite  shore.  In  spite  of 
this  marvellous  escape  his  power  was  broken,  and  he 
ceased  to  harass  the  towns  on  the  Riviera.  We  hear  of 
him  ten  years  later  when  he  was  killed  durmg  the  siege 
of  Malta. 

From  henceforward  the  history  of  Rapallo   becomes 

one  with  that  of  the  Genoese  Republic.     A  letter  written 

in    1797  by  Bonaparte  to  the  authorities  in   Rapallo  is 

interesting,   showing  how  badly  the  countryfolk  headed 

by  their  parish  priests  took  to  the  new  regime.  The 

citizen  Roggieri,"  he  writes,  *   has  communicated  to  me 

the  different  edicts  showing  what  you  have  done  in  those 

difficult  days.    .    .    .     Work   with    strength  !      Have    the 

rebellious  villages  disarmed  and  the  bad  priests  arrested 

— those  creatures  who    preach   violence    instead    of  the 

morals    of  the    Gospel  ;    expel  those   rascals   of  parrochi 

who  have  made  the  people  revolt,  and  armed  the  good 

peasants   against   their   own  cause.    .    .    .      Announce  to 

the  enemies   of  liberty  that   I  have  a  hundred  thousand 

men  to  add  to  your  National  Guard,  and  with  which  to 

clear  away  the  very  traces  ot  your  enemies." 

The  family  of  Spinola — a  name  only  second  in  this 
part   of  Italy  to  that  of  Doria — have   their  villa  at  S. 
56 


RAPALLO  AND  ITS  STORY 


Michele,  a  hamlet  on  the  road  from  Rapallo  to  S. 
Margherita.  It  is  called  the  Villa  Pagana,  tor  what 
reason  I  cannot  tell.  In  its  beautiful  grounds  are  the 
ruins  of  the  medieval  casde  which  protected  the  village, 
circling  the  inlet  below,  and  from  which  assistance  could 
be  sent  to  either  Rapallo  or  S.  Margherita  when  the 
common  enemy,  the  Saracens,  threatened  that  shore. 
But  it  is  more  with  the  church  of  S.  Michele  adjoining 
the  grounds  that  we  are  concerned,  for,  apart  from 
Genoa,  it  contains  the  only  really  great  work  ot  art, 
which  I  know  of,  in  the  whole  Riviera.  It  represents 
the  Crucified  Christ,  with  St.  Francis  and  St.  Bernard, 
and  on  the  right  side  is  a  kneeling  figure,  apparently  the 
donor.  Van  Dyck  was  the  painter  ;  but  that  of  itself  is 
not  enough  to  ensure  a  really  impressive  treatment  of  a 
sacred  subject,  for  many  of  his  earlier  w^orks,  before 
portraiture  took  up  most  of  his  time,  are  lacking  in 
religious  sentiment.  It  is  a  low-toned  canvas,  with  the 
light  faUing  on  the  torso  of  our  Lord,  and  repeated  on 
the  heads  of  the  other  figures.  The  actual  painting  is 
not  only  that  of  Van  Dyck  at  his  best,  but  the  con- 
ception of  the  whole  is  worthy  of  Tintoret. 

That  such  a  work  should  be  so  badly  cared  for 
almost  justifies  the  wholesale  despoiling  of  altars  to  cover 
the  walls  of  municipal  museums,  which  is  one  of  the 
painful  sights  most  lovers  of  art  are  subject  to  in  Italy. 
It  is  right  that  this  canvas  should  remain  where  it  is, 
and  in  the  place  it  was  intended  for  ;  but  some  pressure 
should  be  used  on  those  who  have  it  in  their  keepmg  to 

57 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

ensure  its  proper  care.  It  is  begrimed  with  dirt,  chiefly 
smoke  from  the  altar  candles,  which  are  perilously  near 
the  picture  ;  and  the  whole  of  the  lower  part  is  sputtered 
over  with  candle  grease.  Tawdry  altar  ornaments  give 
unpleasant  notes  of  colour  to  the  foreground,  a  part  of 
which  they  hide,  and  a  cross  light  (easily  avoided)  makes 
it  difficult  to  see  the  remainder.  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
this,  the  picture  does  not  fail  to  make  a  deep  impression. 
If  its  artistic  value  be  not  appreciated  by  those  who  own 
it,  they  are,  nevertheless,  aware  of  its  money  value,  and 
I  should  have  thought  that  enough  to  make  them  care 
better  for  it. 

The  story  told  of  how  it  came  here  is  interesting. 
Van  Dyck  had  killed  his  man  in  a  duel,  and  was  obliged 
to  fly  from  Genoa.  He  found  a  refuge  in  the  Villa 
Pagana  where  he  stayed  with  its  owners  until  it  was 
deemed  safe  for  him  to  return  to  Genoa.  The  church 
(more  or  less  the  private  chapel  of  the  Orero  family,  with 
whom  the  painter  had  been  staying)  had  lately  been 
rebuilt  on  the  site  of  a  medieval  one,  and  Van  Dyck,  as 
a  return  for  the  hospitality  received,  painted  this  picture 
to  adorn  the  family  altar  of  his  hosts. 

Enough  still  remains  at  Rapallo  to  prove  that  it  was, 
possibly  as  little  as  thirty  years  since,  a  picturesque  coast 
town.  Its  situation  is  beautiful,  and  the  mountains 
which  back  it  are  fine  in  contour.  The  men  were 
mainly  occupied  in  catching  fish  or  dredging  for  coral, 
and  the  women  were  noted  lace-makers.  But  now  huge 
hotels  and  pensions  have  vulgarized  its  appearance  ;  and 
58 


At  S.  Michele.  Rapalh 


oWodoa  ,9\^t\VjV\    /L  ^K 


RAPALLO  AND  ITS  STORY 


the  young  women  are  abandonmg  their  lace  cushions  to 
go  into  service,  and  the  men  are  blackening  foreigners' 
boots.  The  steps  down  to  the  sea  at  S.  Michele,  of 
which  we  give  an  illustration,  is  a  little  bit  left  to  remind 
us  of  the  many  things  these  hotels  and  promenades  have 
displaced. 


"jq 


CHAPTER  VI 

SOME  OF   THE   HUMOURS   OF   HOTEL   LIFE,   TOGETHER   WITH 
AN  EXCURSION  TO  PORTOFINO  KULM 

TAKING  the  winter  as  a  whole,  more  grumbling  at 
the  weather  may  be  heard  in  the  Riviera  than 
during  the  same  period  in  England.  Spells  of 
fine  weather  are  more  frequent  and  they  also  last  longer 
than  at  home,  and  this  is  taken  by  foreigners  as  a  matter 
of  course.  But  let  it  rain  for  a  couple  of  days  on  end, 
and  it  is  considered  a  grievance  compared  with  which 
stamp-licking  and  super-tax  are  mere  trifles.  Everyone 
admires  the  prolific  growth  of  the  trees  and  shrubs, 
enjoys  the  masses  of  flowers  and  early  vegetables  seen 
here  long  before  winter  gives  way  to  spring — and  yet 
how  are  we  to  enjoy  these  things  were  the  entire  winter 
to  pass  under  a  cloudless  sky.?  "Where's  your  sunny 
south.?"  will  be  the  form  of  greeting  it  one  meets 
an  acquaintance  hurrying  along  under  an  umbrella. 
This  reminds  me  of  an  enforced  stay  at  Grimsby 
where  I  had  to  attend  a  funeral  some  winters  ago," 
may  be  heard  from  behind  the  litnes  newspaper,  and 
60 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

those  who  do  not  vent  their  feelings  in  sarcasm  wear  a 
we-ought-to-have-our-money-back  kind  ot  expression. 
The  tact  remains  the  same  that  rainy  days  are  more  or 
less  the  exception,  in  wmter  on  the  Riviera,  whereas 
they  are  more  or  less  the  rule  with  us. 

The  winter  ot  191  3-14  was  an  exceptionally  severe 
one  in  the  north  ot  Italy,  the  Italian  papers  were 
tull  ot  the  heavy  tails  ot  snow  in  Milan  and  Turin. 
Trains  were  blocked  by  the  snow,  and  were  hours  late 
at  the  stations.  Italians,  who  usually  reserve  their  sea- 
side visits  tor  the  summer,  came  to  the  coast  for  shelter  ; 
and  it  seemed  strange  to  hear  so  many  well-to-do  people 
speaking  Italian,  where  English  and  German  is  generally 
heard.  One     might     imagine     oneselt     in     Italy," 

remarked  the  sarcastic  triend. 

S.  Margherita  is  not  so  sheltered  but  that  an  echo 
ot  this  severe  weather  was  bound  to  reach  it.  It 
reached  us  right  enough,  early  in  January,  and  I  could 
amuse  myselt  during  some  days  in  making  studies,  trom 
my  window,  ot  the  Piazza  Mazzini,  which  I  overlooked. 
The  statue  of  the  patriot  was  a  degree  less  atrocious 
than  those  ot  other  patriots  erected  in  S.  Margherita  by 
a  gratetul  people.  It  looked  picturesque  with  the  rain 
running  down  its  back,  and  its  reflections  in  the  pools 
beneath.  It  is  the  starting-place  tor  all  the  rickety  old 
chars-a-bancs  that  ply  between  this  and  the  neighbouring 
villages,  and  together  with  groups  ot  peasants  with  green 
and  other  tinted  umbrellas  they  made  a  pretty  spot  of 
colour    in    the     universal     greyness     ot    the    scene.        I 

61 


AN  ARTIST  IN  1  HE   RIVIERA 

intended  keeping  this  drawing  to  illustrate  this  book,  for 
if  it  did  nothing  else  it  would  have  been  a  fresh  note  of 
colour  amongst  a  number  painted  in  sunlight.  A 
chance  acquaintance,  however,  insisted  on  buying  it, 
which  rather  surprised  me,  and  the  reason  he  gave 
surprised  me  still  more  :  he  wished  to  take  back  some- 
thing as  a  souvenir  of  the  Riviera.  I  did  not  part  with 
it  till  a  still  stranger  '  souvenir  of  the  Riviera  "  had 
been  painted  from  my  window,  and  that  is  the  same 
piazza  under  snow. 

One  is  tired  of  hearing  of  the  "  oldest  inhabitant," 
who,  according  to  hotel  keepers,  has  a  poor  memory  for 
any  exceptionally  bad  weather.  According  to  some  it 
was  fifty  years  since  any  snow  lay  for  more  than  a  few 
hours  on  the  ground  ;  others  said  twenty,  but  that  was 
when  no  hotel  keeper  was  listening  ;  but  be  this  as  it 
may,  it  was  certainly  a  very  unusual  event.  The  snow 
was  mostly  slush  by  mid-day,  though  it  lasted  for  several 
days  on  the  roofs,  and  it  was  about  a  week  before  a 
lump  melted  on  Mazzini's  head.  He  is  generally 
known  as  a  hot  head,  while  others  more  acquainted 
with  his  history  assure  us  that  he  could  keep  a  cool  one 
under  very  trying  circumstances.  The  sculptor  was 
evidently  of  that  opinion. 

How   vastly   more   the   great   names   figuring   in    the 

Liberation  of  Italy  would  appeal  to  most  of  us  had  the 

statues    they   commemorate,  seen    in   every  town  of  the 

Peninsula,  been  the  work  of  geniuses  such  as  Verrocchio 

or  Donatello  !      As  well  as  the  disparity  in  genius,  the 
62 


Viazza  Mazzini,  S.   Margherita 


•<*a 


a 


nVnada-^ol^   -^  ,jnj-s.^DVv  o's.^oj*? 


I  I 


vJfilHi        un*:'' 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

modern  sculptor  had  less  sculpturesque  attire  to  deal 
with.  The  very  names,  Colleone  or  Gattamelata,  appeal 
to  the  imagination,  and,  it  iamiliar  with  their  present- 
ments, it  is  hard  to  associate  mean  actions  or  sordid 
motives  with  either.  But  unless  we  know  the  lives  oi 
such  men  as  Mazzini  and  Cavour,  what  impression  do 
we  get  of  them  from  the  numerous  statues  we  constantly 
meet  ? — a  commonplace-looking  attorney  in  one  case, 
and  a  well-fed  bourgeois  in  the  other.  Clothes  count 
for  something,  I  admit  ;  the  quattrocento  armour  in 
which  Colleone  is  clad  is  more  pictorial  than  the  coat 
and  trousers  of  the  sixties.  But  had  a  Verrocchio  given 
us  a  statue  of  Cavour  the  greatness  ot  the  subject 
would,  through  the  genius  of  the  sculptor,  have  made 
its  appeal,  and  the  cut  ot  the  trousers  would  have 
remained  unnoticed. 

What  were,  alter  all,  these  litteenth-century  condot- 
tieri  f  Men  ready  to  sack  a  town  and  burn  villages  in 
behalf  of  any  master  who  paid  them  best.  Whereas 
the  patriots  ot  the  Risorgimento  staked  their  lives  and 
property  tor  the  realization  ot  a  noble  ideal.  A 
comparison  ot  an  equestrian  statue  ot  Victor  Emanuel 
with  that  ot  Colleone  is  perhaps  more  to  the  point. 
Does  the  former  suggest  a  great  warrior  and  a  king 
with  the  attribiues  ot  true  kingship,  or  does  he, 
pirouetting  on  his  horse,  suggest  more  than  a  circus 
pertormer  doing  a  turn  ot  la  haute  ccolc  P  And  yet  he 
staked  his  lite,  his  throne,  and  gave  up  years  ot  ease  and 
comfort  in  the  great  work  ot  liberating  his  country.      It 

63 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

Verrocchio  and  Donatello  could  thus  idealize  the  mer- 
cenaries they  portrayed,  what  might  they  not  have  achieved 
in  the  portrayal  of  Victor  Emanuel  or  Garibaldi  ? 

The  authorities  are  nevertheless  right  in  ordering 
statues  ;  it  is  only  by  making  statues  that  statue-making 
is  to  be  learnt.  Some  recent  ones  are  already  far 
superior  to  those  of  the  sixties,  and  should  a  twentieth- 
century  Donatello  appear  many  of  the  latter  will  be 
replaced  by  his  work.  It  speaks  well  both  for  the 
patriotism  of  the  S.  Margheritesi  and  of  their  desire  to 
encourage  the  arts  that,  in  their  town  of  less  than  3,000 
inhabitants,  there  are  eight  monuments  erected  to  men 
who  have  deserved  well  of  their  country. 

The  statue  to  Christopher  Columbus  is  probably  due 
to  the  munificence  of  the  Amcricani  who  have  returned 
here  with  Argentine  cedulas  in  their  pockets. 

As  the  weather  got  milder  most  of  the  Italian  guests 
returned  to  their  homes  in  Piedmont  and  Lombardy  ; 
we  were  also  approaching  the  season  when  the  influx  of 
foreigners  is  at  its  height,  and  the  Kaiserhof  began  to 
fill  up  with  Germans.  The  old  name,  "  Centrale,"  was 
absent  on  the  new  crockery  and  napery,  and  displaced 
by  that  of  "  Kaiserhof."  The  landlord  probably  saw 
with  his  German  Frau  that  German  custom  would  be 
more  lucrative  than  that  of  his  own  countrymen,  and 
seemed  reconciled  to  the  disappearance  of  the  older 
name.  Should  other  seasons  bring  English  custom,  it 
is  possible  that  they  have  a  "  Windsor  "  or  a  "  Carlton  " 
up  their  sleeves  to  tack  on  to  the  Kaiserhof. 
64 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

A  change  in  the  menu  was  also  noticeable  ;  gnocchi 
■3.ndi paste  asciuttc  became  rarer  dishes,  while  sauerkraut  and 
sausages  were  ot  daily  occurrence.  The  few  remaining 
Italians  murmured,  and  were  ready  to  revolt  at  the  second 
appearance  of  roast  goose  served  with  pears  and  plums. 
Having  moved  about  the  globe  a  good  deal,  I  can 
fortunately  eat  anything  from  a  shark's  fin  to  a  pumpkin 
pie,  providing  they  be  properly  prepared  ;  I  did  not  there- 
fore join  the  deputation  to  solicit  a  return  to  the  previous 
fare.  On  an  increase  of  German  guests  casks  of 
Munich  and  Pilsen  beer  were  broached  every  evening, 
and  this  made  ample  compensation  for  the  shortcomings 
of  the  roast  goose. 

The  Russian  kidies  were  also  about  to  return  to  their 
country  and  seemed  exercised  in  their  minds  as  to  how 
they  could  smuggle  their  purchases  through  the  customs. 
There  was  no  lack  of  suggestions  from  the  other  guests. 
The  thinner  lady  was  advised  to  wind  the  lace  garments, 
and  other  pliable  goods,  in  bands  round  her  person, 
which,  if  artfully  done,  would,  if  possible,  improve  her 
figure  as  well  as  keep  her  warm  on  her  journey  ;  care, 
of  course,  to  be  taken  not  to  be  so  stout  as  to  excite  the 
suspicions  of  the  customs  of^cials.  Lady  smugglers  are 
now  much  handicapped  by  their  narrow  skirts  ;  neat 
things  in  Paris  shoes  could  formerly  be  negotiated 
beneath  the  ample  garments  of  a  past  fashion.  In  the 
days  of  the  bustle  I  heard  of  a  clock  being  carried  inside 
that  aid  to  beauty,  and  it  would  have  passed  the  customs 
unnoticed  had  not  the  ticking  excited  suspicion.  The 
5  65 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

soles  of  boots  were  rubbed  on  the  pavement  to  make 
believe  that  they  had  been  worn  ;  even  water-colour 
stains  were  hinted  at,  as  being  easily  washed  out,  and 
would  help  to  pass  some  parasols. 

A  German  described  a  scene  he  had  witnessed  at  the 
frontier   of  his    country.      There   were    three    passengers 
beside   himself  in   his    compartment,    two   ladies    and    a 
gentleman.      The  former  expressed  their  fears  as  to  the 
way  they  had  hid  their  lace,  and  the  latter  assured  them 
that    if  they    folded    it   carefully   it  could  all  be   pinned 
inside    their   hats,    and  that  the  customs  officials  would 
not  look  there.     They  did  as  instructed,  and  on  arriving 
at  the   frontier  an  official   entered  the    compartment  to 
examine   the   hand   baggage.      Everyone   said  that  they 
had   nothing  to   declare,   and  a   superficial   look   at  the 
ladies'  hand-bags  satisfied  the  officer,  who  alter  this  was 
about  to  examine  a  portmanteau  ol  the  male  passengers. 
But  imagine  the  horror  of  the  ladies  when  they  saw  their 
pretended  friend  touch  his  head  with  his  finger  and  with 
a  wink  of  the  eye  point  to  their  hats.      The  official  at 
once  ordered  the  ladies  to  take  them  off,  and,   on  dis- 
covering the  lace,  they  had  to  follow  him  to  the  customs 
office,  where  they  were  mulcted  in  a  fine  and  the  lace 
was   confiscated.      After   they  had  all  safely   passed  the 
frontier,  the  man  who  had  acted  so  strangely,  to  say  the 
least   of  it,   begged    the   ladies  to  allow  him    to    recoup 
them  to  the  amount  of  their  fine,  and  as  for  the  lace, 
he  said  :    "  You  are  welcome  to  six  times  what  you  have 
lost."    Then  opening  his  portmanteau  he  said  :        Take 
66. 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

what  you  want — the  mean  trick  I  played  on  you  has 
enabled  me  to  smuggle  more  than  a  thousand  pounds* 
worth  ot  lace  through  the  customs." 

That  smugghng,  which  includes  making  a  false 
declaration,  is  dishonest  never  struck  anyone.  It  is 
curious  how  often  people,  of  the  strictest  probity  in  other 
matters,  will  solemnly  declare  they  have  nothing  contra- 
band with  them,  and  triumphantly  show  their  smuggled 
cigars  after  the  frontier  is  crossed. 

We  missed  the  company  of  the  Russian  ladies, 
both  of  them  witty  and  cultured  women.  How 
they  fared  at  their  frontier  we  know  not,  but  we  know 
that  they  had  on  plenteous  protection  against  the 
cold. 

The  chief  excursion  from  S.  Margherita  is  to  Porto- 
fino  Kulm.  A  rebellious  spirit  against  the  things  *'  one 
ought  to  see  had  inclined  me  to  put  this  off,  so  many 
places  unknown  as  the  thing  "  having  often  given  me 
much  greater  pleasure.  The  glowing  account  given  of 
It  by  the  Russian  ladies  induced  me  and  my  German 
artist  friend  to  go  and  see  it.  The  excursion  can  be  done 
in  an  afternoon,  by  a  motor  which,  weather  permitting, 
starts  from  Rapallo,  picks  up  passengers  at  S.  Margherita, 
then  crosses  three-quarters  of  the  promontory  in  a  con- 
tinuous ascent  till  it  reaches  Ruta.  Here  we  enter  on 
a  private  road  belonging  to  Portofino  Kulm  hotel,  and 
after  zigzagging  for  four  miles  up  the  slopes  of  the 
mountain  we  end  our  journey.  As  an  hotel  this  estab- 
lishment is  used  only  in  summer  ;  but  it  is  open,  during 
5*  67 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

the  winter  season,  for  day  excursionists  from  the 
neighbouring  sea-side  places. 

The  extensive  panorama  of  the  eastern  and  western 
Rivieras  to  the  right  and  left  of  us  was  only  surpassed 
in  grandeur  by  the  ranges  of  snow-covered  mountains 
behind  us.  To  the  west  of  the  promontory  we  looked 
down  on  the  villages  of  S.  Nicola,  Mortola,  and  S. 
Rocco  ;  no  other  signs  of  human  activity  were  visible  on 
this  bleak  and  harbourless  coast.  Camogli  with  its 
quaint  little  harbour  lies  in  the  angle  where  the 
Portofino  promontory  starts  from  the  mainland.  Then 
Recco,  Sori,  Bogliasco,  and  Nervi  lead  the  eye  to  the 
amphitheatre-like  Genoa — so  clear  and  so  distinct  on 
that  day  that  it  seemed  impossible  fifteen  miles  could 
separate  us.  Beyond,  in  the  sweep  of  the  Riviera  di 
Ponente,  every  inlet  had  its  town  or  village  and  every 
promontory  its  ruined  castle.  Savona  was  clearly  visible, 
then  Vado,  Spotorno,  and  the  towers  of  Noli.  The 
mountains  around  Albengo  and  Alassio  were  slightly 
darker  blue  than  the  sea  and  a  shade  more  purple  than 
the  sky. 

On  the  east  side  Chiavari  seemed  at  our  feet  ;  the 
hills  above  Sestri  Levante  and  the  bolder  outline  of 
Monterosso  led  the  eye  along  the  Eastern  Riviera  till  it 
ends  abruptly  at  the  classic  Portovenere. 

By  climbing  the  Monte  Semaforo  due  south  of  us, 
and  some  600  feet  higher,  we  get  from  this  vantage- 
ground  (2,000  feet  above  sea-level)  a  fine  view  of  the 
Island  of  Corsica.  A  very  clear  day  should  be  chosen 
68 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

for  this,  for  if  not  the  climb  will  have  been  taken  in 
vain.  By  a  tortuous  and  very  steep  path  a  descent  can 
be  made  in  a  couple  of  hours  to  S.  Fruttuoso. 

We  quitted  the  motor  at  Ruta,  on  our  return,  partly 
because  it  was  very  cold,  and  partly  to  go  back  by 
another  route.  We  kept  to  the  high  road  for  a  couple 
of  miles,  and  enjoyed  the  beautiful  views  across  the  Val 
Christi.  At  a  turning  in  the  road,  and  looking  east- 
ward, the  village  of  S.  Lorenzo,  with  its  pretty  campanile 
and  a  fine  cluster  of  cypresses,  is  oudined  against  the  sea 
and  purple  hills  stretching  away  to  Portovenere.  The 
church  contains  an  interesting  triptych  attributed  to 
Memling  ;  on  it  is  inscribed:  "Andreas  de  Costa  fecit 
fieri  Bruges  1499."  It  was,  however,  too  dark  to 
enable  us  to  judge  ot  its  merits.  The  Aurelian  Way 
meets  the  high  road  at  S.  Lorenzo,  after  which  its  traces 
are  lost  till  they  are  picked  up  again  on  the  coast  west 
of  the  promontory. 

Shortly  after  leaving  S.  Lorenzo  we  took  the  path 
which  winds  through  olive  groves  and  terraced  home- 
steads till  it  descends  to  S.  Siro,  a  suburb  of  S. 
Margherita. 

The  saint  after  whom  both  the  village  and  its  church 
are  called  was  a  once  famous  bishop  of  Genoa.  He  is 
held  in  much  veneration  by  the  fisher-folk  on  the 
Ligurian  coast,  and  he  is  said  to  have  a  wonderful 
control    over    the    winds    and     waves.      He    is     always 

•It  doubtless  passed  through  Ruta,  this  name  being  formerly  Rua,  Ang. 
road. 

69 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

represented  with  a  blackbird  in  his  hand,  for  the  legend 
is  that  when  a  boy  he  miraculously  restored  a  dead 
blackbird  to  life.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  he  did  the 
species  a  good  turn,  for  these  birds  have  ever  since  been 
allowed  to  build  their  nests  and  rear  their  young 
unmolested  in  the  precincts  of  all  the  churches  bearing 
the  saint's  name.  But  for  this  they  might  have  been 
extinct,  for  the  Latin  races  seem  to  regard  most  birds  as 
their  natural  enemies.  Hardly  do  we  hear  the  twitter 
of  a  songster  than  the  report  of  a  gun  makes  us  aware 
that  a  cacciatore  is  after  it.  Were  cartridges  cheaper, 
few  birds  except  stuffed  specimens  would  be  seen  in  Italy, 
or  France  either,  for  that  matter.  A  French  wine- 
grower remarked  to  me  that  were  it  not  for  this  cursed 
mania  for  destroying  birds,  millions  might  have  been 
saved  in  the  attempts  to  stamp  out  phylloxera. 

There  is  one  bird   I   trust  we  may  never  see  in   Italy 
except  stuffed  or  in  an  aviary,  and  that  is  that  discord- 
breeding  bird,  the  gay  and  foolish  pheasant.      We  may 
wander   now    at  will  in  the  country-side,   providing  we 
injure   no  crops  ;   but    once   the   breeding   of  pheasants 
becomes  general,  as  with  us,  then  good-bye  to  many  a 
delightful  walk  which  we  can  now  enjoy.      Country  folk 
at  home  are  not  by  nature  more  surly  than  in  Italy,  and 
would    not,    in    all    probability,    turn    people    off  their 
property,  were  it  not  from  fear  lest   the  game  should  be 
disturbed.      Besides      this,     Italy      has     quite      enough 
criminals  without  adding  thousands  ot  poachers  to  the 
numbers.      Imagine  any   military   manoeuvres  in  France 
70 


SOME  OF  THE  HUMOURS  OF  HOTEL  LIFE 

or  Italy  being  impeded  by  a  game  preserve  being  put 
"  out  of  bounds,"  as  has  been  done  not  unfrequendy 
in  England  ! 

I  would,  nevertheless,  rather  hear  the  birds  singing,  as 
with  us,  in  spite  of  the  inharmonious  call  ot  the  pheasant. 
Let  us  drop  our  mite  in  S.  Siro's  shrine  to  help  to  keep 
his  memory  green. 

The  streams  that  trickle  down  the  slopes  of  Monte 
Ruta  feed  the  Serrone,  which  flows  in  a  straight  course 
from  S.  Siro  to  the  harbour  of  S.  Margherita.  Between 
these  two  places  a  reforming  Sindaco  has  tunnelled  the 
river  so  as  to  widen  the  Corso  Umberto,  at  present  a 
boulevard  a  mile  in  length.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the 
pleasure  of  destroying  so  picturesque  an  approach  to  the 
town  was  worth  the  expense  it  entailed. 

The  excellent  little  guide-book,  "  Rapallo  :  Past  and 
Present,"  gives  us  careful  instructions  how  to  reach  places 
of  interest  away  from  the  high  roads,  which  are  few  and 
far  between  ;  a  pedestrian  might  be  easily  benighted  on 
this  mountainous  promontory  had  he  not  this  guide  m 
his  pocket  to  put  him  straight. 


71 


CHAPTER  VII 

CAMOGLI  AND  ITS  PATRON  SAINTS,   AND  THE  SANTO 
QUADRO  OF  MONTALLEGRO 

SINCERELY  as  I  hoped  that  Camogh  might  never 
become  a  "  resort "  and  break  out  in  Hotels 
Splendide  "  and  Majestic,"  I  nevertheless 
regretted  that  there  seemed  no  possible  place  to  put  up 
at.  I  know  of  no  other  town  as  picturesque  on  the 
Riviera  di  Levante.  My  Baedeker  sums  it  up  : 
Camogli  (inn,  plain)  on  the  coast,  to  the  right,  whence 
another  ascent  to  the  promontory  begins."  So  little  of 
it  is  seen  from  the  railway  that  most  people  would  pass 
it  without  giving  it  another  thought.  My  attention  was 
attracted  to  it  in  an  unexpected  way  by  a  fellow  pas- 
senger in  the  train  which  took  us  from  Genoa  to 
S.  Margherita.  He  was  a  sea-faring  Englishman  who 
hailed  from  Cardiff,  and  having  a  few  days  of  leisure 
before  sailing  from  Genoa,  he  was  going  to  spend  them 
with  Italian  friends  at  Camogli.  Now  a  British  sailor 
speaking   Italian,   and   looking  forward  to  a  stay  in  an 

Italian   household,   is   surprising  ;   but   I   was   still   more 
72 


CAMOGLI   AND   ITS   PATRON   SAINTS 


surprised  when  he  told  me  that  Camogh  was  a  very 
picturesque  place.  I  wondered  what  his  ideas  of  the 
picturesque  could  be.  I  asked  if  there  was  a  Marine 
parade  and  an  iron  pier,  "  No,  none  ot  that  kind  of 
thing,"  he  answered,  "  but  were  I  an  artist  there  are 
lots  of  things  there  I  should  like  to  paint." 

I  have  been  so  often  disappointed  with  places 
recommended  to  me  as  being  picturesque,  that  I  decided 
to  have  his  opinion  confirmed  before  venturing  on  the 
inn  described  as  "  plain  "  by  Baedeker.  The  man,  how- 
ever, interested  me,  and  I  asked  him  how  it  was  that  he 
knew  Camogli  so  well.  He  told  me  the  place  had  a 
harbour  large  enough  to  take  a  good-sized  collier,  and 
that  he  had  often  been  there  as  engineer  on  one  of 
them.  He  described  to  me  how  the  harbour  was  partly 
enclosed  by  a  spit  of  land  with  the  old  church  and  castle 
on  it ;  he  spoke  of  the  ship-building  yards  and  the  steep 
and  narrow  streets  leading  to  them,  of  the  overshot  mills 
worked  by  the  little  river  which  winds  down  from  the 
mountains.  And  before  he  wished  me  good-bye  at 
Camogli  station  I  felt  I  wanted  litde  confirmation  as  to 
the  pictorial  qualities  of  the  place.  Ten  minutes  in  the 
smokiest  tunnel  I  have  ever  struck,  even  in  Italy,  then 
brought  me  to  S.  Margherita. 

People  at  the  Kaiserhof  who  knew  the  coast  summed 
up  Camogli  as  a  dirty  hole  with  nothing  interesting 
about  it.  When  I  discovered  what  they  found  interest- 
ing I  decided  to  go  and  see  Camogli  for  myself.  Risk- 
ing the  danger  of  peppering  this  book  with  superlatives, 

73 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

I  put  Camogli  down  as  the  most  picturesque  port 
on  this  coast.  I  sought  in  vain  for  the  inn  described 
plain  "  by  Baedeker.  I  saw  the  word  '  Hotel,"  with 
the  letters  nearly  washed  off,  and  a  mattress  airing  on  the 
balcony,  and  thinking  that  was  plain  enough  I  made 
inquiries  in  the  butcher's  shop  on  the  ground  floor. 
I  was  informed  that  the  house  had  been  an  inn  years 
gone  by,  and  that  there  was  nothing  of  the  kind  there 
now.  Possibly  I  might  get  a  bed  at  the  cafe  near 
the  station,  was  suggested.  I  looked  in  at  the  cafe, 
and  found  it  such  a  dirty  place,  with  such  a  noisy 
crowd  of  customers,  that  I  made  no  inquiries  about 
the  bed,  doubting  as  to  who  or  what  might  share  it 
with  me. 

Now  Camogli  is  a  larger  place  than  S.  Margherita,  it 
has  a  busy  little  harbour,  and  a  certain  look  of  prosperity 
in  its  long  main  street  ;  and  yet  this  seemed  to  be  all 
the  accommodation  for  a  stranger.  I  soon  felt  satisfied 
that  it  will  never  become  a  winter  resort,  for,  being  on 
the  exposed  side  of  the  promontory,  the  wind  was  very 
much  keener  than  at  S.  Margherita  or  Rapallo. 

The  little  harbour,  as  seen  from  the  upper  part  of  the 
town,  with  the  promontory  of  Portofino  looming  above 
its  church  and  castle,  was  all  and  more  than  the  sailor- 
man  had  given  me  to  expect.  The  mountain  was 
looking  its  very  best  :  indescribable  blues  and  purples  in 
the  shades  with  subtle  warm  lights  where  the  sun  struck 
its  bold  projections — the  despair  of  any  painter  ;  and 
should,  God  willing,  a  fraction  of  its  beauty  be  rendered 
74 


The  Harbour  at  Camogli 


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!: 


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■\\^omDO  Id  Tuod-xoH  ac\'T 


If: -4^. 


"•^Sfi"-^. 


rtf^^-r^    • 


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^ 


CAMOGLI   AND  ITS  PATRON   SAINTS 


by  brush  and  palette,  it  may  still  remain   the  despair  ot 
him  who  has  the  reproduction. 

Every  wind,  except  a  warm  one,  seemed  to  catch  the 
place  where  I  sat  ;  so  I  had  to  give  it  up,  trusting  that 
a  warmer  day  might  not  "  unrobe  the  mountain  of  its 
purple  hue." 

I  came  here  during  more  congenial  weather,  half 
suffocated  each  time  by  the  smoke  in  the  tunnel 
traversing  the  promontory  ;  but  the  mountain  had  doffed 
its  winter  garb,  and  pearly  greys  and  greens  replaced  the 
richer  colouring. 

Everything  about  Camogli  suggested  history,  but  it 
seems  to  have  been  as  much  neglected  by  the  historian 
as  by  the  hotel  company  promoter.  I  have  seldom 
found  its  name  mentioned  except  as  being  the  limit  of  a 
diocese  or  of  some  jurisdiction.  The  stories,  however, 
of  these  Riviera  ports  all  tell  the  same  tale  of  tyranny, 
pillage,  and  arson  ;  of  being  harassed  alternately  by 
Saracens,  Pisans,  and  Venetians,  by  Spaniards  and 
Frenchmen  ;  and,  when  not  united  against  the  common 
enemy,  the  scene  of  faction  fights  between  Guelfs  and 
Ghibellines,  the  Bianchi  and  the  Neri. 

The  churches  preserve  the  histories  of  each  local 
saint,  and  these  and  the  legends  which  surround  them 
make  a  pleasant  change  from  the  monotonous  tale  of 
murder  and  bloodshed.  The  campanile,  seen  in  this 
illustration  as  well  as  in  the  frontispiece,  is  that  ot  the 
church  of  S.  Michele.  But  although  the  principal 
church   is   dedicated   to   St.   Michael,   S.   Prospero   is  the 

75 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

patron  saint  of  the  town.  He  was  bishop  of  Tarragona 
at  the  beginning  ot  the  fifth  century,  and  fled  from 
Spain  during  the  persecutions  of  the  Christian  population 
by  the  Vandals.  This  was  in  409,  the  same  year  that 
S.  Giorgio  with  other  disciples  of  S.  Fruttuoso  conveyed 
the  ashes  of  the  latter  to  the  shrine  now  called  after  him, 
and  to  which  we  have  referred.  Prospero,  unlike  these 
others,  travelled  by  land,  keeping  along  the  coast,  intent 
on  findmg  his  way  to  Rome.  Having  passed  Ruta  jhe 
lay  down  to  rest  by  the  side  of  the  Aurelian  Way,  using 
a  stone  for  a  pillow,  and  while  he  lay  there,  supposedly 
asleep,  the  bells  of  Recco,  Camogli,  and  S.  Margherita 
began  to  ring  without  any  human  aid.  The  people  in 
consternation  sought,  far  and  near,  the  cause  of  such  a 
miracle,  and,  on  finding  the  pilgrim  lying  on  the  way- 
side, they  discovered  that  he  was  dead  ;  and  also  that 
the  stone,  on  which  he  had  rested  his  cheek,  had 
become  soft  as  a  pillow  and  bore  the  impress  of  the 
pilgrim's  profile. 

No  one  but  a  saint  could  have  died  with  these 
attending  miracles,  and  each  of  the  parishes,  whose  bells 
had  rung,  disputed  the  right  to  the  body.  To  prevent 
bloodshed  it  was  decided  to  tie  the  deceased  pilgrim  on 
to  the  back  of  a  mare,  and  to  allow  it  to  stray,  with  its 
precious  burden,  in  whatever  direction  it  chose.  Where- 
upon the  mare  took  the  steep  track  down  to  the  sea 
and  rested  at  Camogli.  Prospero  was  in  due  course 
canonized,  and  to  this  day  his  relics  are  venerated  by 
the  pious  Camoglesi. 
76 


CAMOGLI  AND   ITS  PATRON   SAINTS 

The  S.  Giorgio  mentioned  above  must  not  be 
confused  with  St.  George  ot  Cappadocia.  The  litde 
church  on  the  summit  of  the  headland  overlooking 
Portofino  harbour  was  erected  in  honour  of  the  Spanish 
saint,  who  had  spent  the  rest  of  his  days  there.  But  we 
are  told  that  after  the  first  crusade  some  ashes  of  St. 
George,  the  patron  saint  of  England  as  well  as  of  the 
Genoese  Republic,  w^ere  brought  to  Portofino  from 
Palestine  and  enshrined  in  the  existing  church  of  his 
name.  Rather  hard  on  the  lesser  saint.  And  on  St. 
George's  Day  these  ashes  are  borne  in  procession  round 
the  village,  though  some  folks  still  maintain  them  to  be 
the  relics  of  the  Spaniard. 

Ruta,  in  its  church  of  S.  Michele,  also  has  the  relics 
of  one  of  the  Spanish  Christians  who  fled  to  Italy  during 
the  persecutions  by  the  Vandals.  They  are  of  a  S. 
Giovanni  ;  of  his  claims  to  sanctity  we  are  told  litde 
beyond  his  having  lived  as  a  hermit  on  the  hills  of 
Portofino  and  that  he  died  young. 

Before  we  leave  this  immediate  neighbourhood  some 
mention  of  the  famous  sanctuary  of  Montallegro  should 
be  made.  It  is  held  in  as  high  veneration,  on  this 
coast,  as  is  the  earlier  one  of  Loreto  on  the  Adriatic. 
The  two  have  this  in  common,  that  thev  both  com- 
memorate  an  act  of  Divine  favour  shown  to  Italy  at  the 
expense  of  other  Christian  people.  According  to  the 
faithful,  the  history  of  the  miracle  of  Montallegro  is  as 
follows  :  Giovanni  Chichizola,  a  pious  and  God- 
fearing peasant,   was  returning  to  his  village  of  Canevale 

11 


AN   ARTIST   IN  THE  RIVIERA 

after  a  long  tramp  from  Genoa,  where  he  had  been  to 
sell  his  wares.  Weary  and  footsore,  he  lay  down  to  rest 
on  the  crest  of  Montallegro,  before  descending  to  his 
home  in  the  adjacent  valley,  now  known  as  the  Valle  di 
Fontanabuona.  He  was  awakened  from  his  sleep  by 
the  Virgin  Mary  calling  him  by  name,  and  so  startled 
was  he  at  this  glorious  apparition  that  he  tainted.  On 
his  recovering  the  Madonna  addressed  him  in  these 
words :  "  Look  up,  my  Giovanni,  and  tear  naught. 
She  whom  you  behold  is  the  mother  of  God.  Return 
as  far  as  Rapallo  and  tell  the  people  of  my  appearance 
to  you  on  this  hill,  and  that  I  leave  to  them,  as  a  token 
of  my  love,  this  picture  which,  by  the  ministry  of  angels, 
has  been  transported  from  Greece." 

The  Virgin  Mary  then  disappeared,  leaving  Giovanni 
prostrate  on  the  ground.  He  saw  the  picture,  but  dare 
not  touch  it.  Other  peasants  arriving,  he  told  them  his 
wondrous  story.  None,  however,  daring  to  remove  the 
picture,  one  or  two  decided  to  keep  guard  over  it  while 
Giovanni  and  another  returned  to  Rapallo  to  tell  the 
parish  priest. 

On  hearing  the  news,  the  Archiprete,  Giacopo 
Fieschi,  followed  by  a  multitude,  ascended  the  hill  where 
the  miraculous  picture  lay.  As  if  more  evidence  were 
needed  of  the  truth  of  Giovanni's  account,  they  beheld 
a  stream  of  water  trickling  from  the  bare  rock  on  which 
the  Blessed  Virgin  had  stood. 

•     All    then    returned   to   Rapallo,    the    priest    reverently 
carrying  the  sacred  treasure.      He  placed  it  that  night  in 
78 


CAMOGLI  AND  ITS  PATRON  SAINTS 


the    sacristy    with    the   intention   of  exposing   it  on    the 
high  altar  in  the  morning. 

The  next  day  all  the  inhabitants  flocked  to  the 
church,  save  a  few  who  had  climbed  Montallegro  to  visit 
the  spot  where  the  Madonna  had  appeared,  and  to  drink 
of  the  miraculous  spring. 

But  imagine  the  consternation  ot  Don  Giacopo 
Fieschi  and  that  of  his  flock  when  it  was  announced  that 
the  picture  had  gone  !  The  search  was  still  proceeding 
when  some  of  those  who  had  climbed  the  mountain 
returned  with  the  tidings  that  the  picture  lay  on  the 
spot  where  Giovanni  had  first  seen  it. 

A  solemn  procession  then  wended  its  way  up  the 
mountain,  and  with  every  honour  due  to  so  sacred  an 
object  the  miraculous  ikon  was  conveyed  once  more  to 
the  church,  and  exposed  on  the  high  altar.  Its  stay 
there  was  of  short  duration,  for  on  the  following  day, 
July  the  fourth — and  a  momentous  date  in  the  annals  of 
Rapallo — the  picture  had  once  more  been  miraculously 
translated  to  the  summit  of  Montallegro. 

The  Rapallesi  wanted  no  more  proof  that  on  that 
spot  it  was  ordained  the  picture  should  remain.  A 
temporary  shrine  was  built  around  it,  while  plans  were 
being  got  out  to  build  a  sanctuary  worthy  of  the  mother 
of  God.  The  whole  population  lent  willing  hands  to 
speed  the  construction,  and  by  July,  1558— one  year 
after  the  miraculous  appearance — the  church  was 
solemnly  consecrated. 

For  sixteen  years  the  picture  remained  undisturbed  in 

79 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

its  gorgeous  setting  ;  thousands  of  pilgrims  came  from 
all  parts  to  be  healed  at  the  miraculous  spring  and  to 
offer  up  prayers  of  thanksgiving  in  the  sanctuary. 

Amongst  these  pilgrims  came  some  Greek  sailors  who 
had  been  saved  from  shipwreck  off  Rapallo  while  on  a 
voyage  from  Ragusa,  on  the  Dalmatian  coast,  to  Genoa. 
The  picture  was  recognized  by  them  as  being  the  one 
which,  sixteen  years  previously,  had  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared from  the  shrine  it  adorned  in  their  port  ;  they 
claimed  its  possession,  which,  needless  to  say,  the 
Rapallesi  indignantly  refused. 

The  sacred  ikon  then  became  an  object  of  litigation  ; 
the  sailors  brought  their  case  before  the  high  court  at 
Genoa,  where  it  was  finally  decided  that  the  picture  was 
to  be  returned  to  Ragusa.  Amidst  the  lamentations 
and  curses  ot  the  native  population  the  sailors  conveyed 
their  lost  treasure  to  their  ship,  and  set  sail  for  the 
Adriatic.  We  may  imagine  the  joy  of  these  sailors  in 
the  anticipation  of  their  reward,  temporal  as  well  as 
spiritual  ;  it  was,  however,  of  short  duration,  for  on  the 
following  day  the  picture  was  gone. 

On  the  ceiling  of  the  recently  restored  sanctuary  we 
are  shown  how  the  picture  was  conveyed  by  angels  to  its 
predestined  resting-place. 

The  Santo  Quadro  is  an  early  Byzantine  ikon  (need- 
less to  say,  attributed  to  St.  Luke)  representing  the 
blessed  sleep  "  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Saints  and  apostles 
surround  the  bier  on  which  she  lay,  and  three  aureoled 

figures  in  the  background  depict  the  three  persons  of  the 
80 


CAMOGLI   AND   ITS  PATRON  SAINTS 

Holy  Trinity  ;  a  tiny  figure  on  the  side  symbolizes  the 
soul  ot  the  Virgin.  Across  the  panel  we  can  trace  the 
letters  Qeoro^^og,  the  Mother  of  God. 

The  subject  is  more  easily  discerned  on  the  numerous 
copies  which  adorn  the  private  shrines  in  Rapallo. 
The  hallowed  spot  on  which  it  now  rests  is  so  overladen 
with  precious  gihs  that  little  of  the  sacred  ikon  is  dis- 
cernible. 

The  holy  well  can  be  seen  next  to  the  high  altar. 
Silver  arms  and  legs  and  rejected  crutches  bear 
testimony  to  the  healing  power  ot  the  water. 

We  are  told  that  in  1625  the  spring  turned  the 
colour  of  blood.  That  was  when  Carlo  Emanuele  I., 
Duke  of  Savoy,  was  advancing  with  his  army  on  Genoa. 
The  people  then  flocked  in  their  thousands  to 
Montallegro  to  implore  the  Madonna  to  avert  the 
impending  danger  to  the  Republic.  The  attempt  on 
Genoa  failed,   and  the  water  resumed  its  natural  colour. 

The  festival  of  the  Madonna  di  Montallegro  is  held 
during  the  first  three  days  of  July.  A  regatta  takes 
place  on  the  Bay  of  Rapallo,  and  illuminated  boats  are 
rowed  in  procession  after  dark  ;  a  quaint  feature  is  the 
thousands  of  small  paper  boats,  each  carrying  a  lighted 
taper,  which  are  set  afloat  on  the  water.  The  fcsta  ends 
with  a  solemn  procession  round  the  town  and  the 
necessary  display  of  fireworks  at  night. 

Besides  the  faithful,  who  still  climb  the  2,000  feet  to 
do  honour  to  the  Madonna  di  Montallegro,  the  place 
attracts  an  increasing  number  of  the  profane,  tor  the 
6  81 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

view  from  it  is,  if  possible,  more  beautiful  than  that 
obtained  from  Portofino  Kulm,  and  after  a  long  stay  in 
this  district  there  is  an  enhanced  pleasure  in  retracing 
the  walks  and  the  places  visited  on  the  famous  pro- 
montory lying  at  our  feet. 


82 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SESTRI  LEVANTE,   LE  CINQUE  TERRE  AND  PORTOVENERE 

ALTHOUGH  Sestri  Levante  be  barely  a  dozen 
miles  from  S.  Margherita  I  seemed  to  have 
dropped  into  another  world.  The  Hotel 
Miramare,  where  I  stopped,  is  a  genume  old  Italian 
house  and  entirely  run  by  Italian  people.  This,  some 
may  say,  is  a  doubtful  advantage,  and,  true  enough,  their 
doubts  are  only  too  often  justified.  But  if  they  feel,  as 
I  do,  that  they  are  only  half  in  Italy  when  living  in  an 
hotel  which  has  nothing  characteristic  of  the  country 
about  it,  they  will  prefer  a  decent  Italian  Albergo  to 
the  character  less  foreign-run  hotel,  bethe  latter  never  so 
luxurious. 

A  lift,  electric  lighting,  central  heating,  baths  and 
other  things  necessary  to  our  comfort  were  here,  without 
in  the  least  having  robbed  the  place  of  its  Italian 
character.  Its  entrance  was  in  a  narrow  street,  which,  I 
confess,  had  rather  a  cut-throat  look  about  it  on  arriving 
there  in  the  dark.  In  this  respect  it  was  not  unlike  the 
entrance  to  many  an  Italian  palazzo  ;  but  once  inside, 
6*  83 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

everything  looked  cheery  and  hospitable.  The  main 
facade  overlooked  the  sea,  the  waves  splashing  against  its 
terrace.  The  hotel  had  formerly  been  a  seaside  villa, 
and,  as  its  clientele  had  increased,  an  adjoining  house  had 
been  made  a  part  of  it.  About  halt  of  the  guests  were 
Italian  and  half  English,  and  where  they  could  make 
themselves  understood  the  relations  between  them  were 
very  cordial. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning  that  I  realized  how 
beautifully  situated  the  place  is.  Tucked  in  the  narrow 
neck  of  a  small  peninsula,  it  is  protected  by  the  latter 
from  the  west  winds,  and  it  is  sheltered  from  the  north 
and  east  by  a  projection  of  the  coast  in  a  southerly 
direction.  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  come  here  first, 
for  it  seemed  impossible  that  the  cold  winds  could  find 
their  way  into  this  sheltered  bay. 

The  town   lies  on  the  western   side  of  the  peninsula, 

spreads  over  its  low-lying  isthmus,  and  climbs  up  the  hill 

which  was  formerly  an  island.      The  bay  is  too  shallow 

for  fishing  smacks  ;   but  makes  an  excellent  harbour  for 

smaller    craft,    as    well    as    an    ideal    place    for    bathing. 

Crossing  the  isthmus  (a  matter  of  a  hundred  yards  or  so) 

we  reach  a  long  level  shore  where,  it  rough  weather  be 

anticipated,   some  fifty  smacks  may  be  seen,  drawn  up 

on   to   the  sands.      A   marine  painter  would  find  endless 

subjects  here.      On   fine  days,  though   the  craft  here  are 

fewer    in    number,    each    one    makes    a    greater    display 

with   its  lateen    sails   spread   to   dry   in   the   sun.      From 

boat  to  boat  festoons   of  variegated  linen   are   hung    out 
84 


The  Strand  at  Sestri  LeVante 


ni 


( ' 
I 
I 


9lno\39j   iTlia'L   ID   bnDt5?,  sc\T 


days, 


i.in 


villa, 


.    I  :■ 


i  find 


g- 


SESTRI   LEV  ANTE 


to  air  ;  fishing  nets  are  being  repaired  or  tanned  in 
steaming  cauldrons  ;  men  are  constructing  or  repairing 
their  craft,  and  at  a  banked- in  Htde  brook,  which 
crosses  the  sands,  numbers  of  women  are  washmg  their 
clothes.  In  short,  all  the  picturesque  properties  of  an 
Italian  fishing  village  may  be  painted  and  studied  here. 

Some  understanding  should  be  arrived  at  with  the 
authorities  that  an  artist  has  as  much  right  to  protection 
as  any  of  die  other  folk  who  unmolested  ply  their  trades 
here.  The  grown-up  people  behaved  well  enough  ;  but 
the  children  were  often  a  veritable  pest. 

I  wrote  a  glowing  account  to  the  German  artist  from 
whom  I  had  parted  at  S.  Margherita,  and  this  soon 
brought  him  and  his  charming  young  wife  to  Sestri. 
We  spent  many  pleasant  days  together,  either  working 
on  the  strand,  in  the  gardens  of  the  Villa  Piuma  or  in 
some  of  the  quaint  streets  at  the  back  of  the  town.  On 
off  days  we  would  start  on  an  expedition  to  some 
inland  village,  or  see  some  interesting  little  town  on  the 
coast. 

There  are  many  of  the  latter  between  Sestri  and 
Portovenere  where  the  Riviera  may  be  said  to  end. 
The  quickest  way  to  go  to  any  of  them  is  by  the  train 
which  skirts  the  coast  till  it  reaches  Riomaggiore  and 
then  turns  inland,  on  its  way  to  Spezia,  five  miles  short 
of  Portovenere.  It  is,  however,  an  aggravating  journey, 
as  one  only  catches  occasional  glimpses  of  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  parts  of  the  coast.  Hardly  has  one  opened  a 
window    but    it    has    to    be    quickly    closed    to    prevent 

85 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

suffocation  by  the  smoke  in  the  tunnels.  As  much  of 
the  hne  is  underground  as  above  it.  It  is,  however, 
very  useful  to  a  pedestrian  by  enabling  him  to  extend 
his  walks  to  towns  beyond  the  distance  he  could  do  had 
he  also  to  return  by  foot  on  the  same  day.  Thus  if  he 
be  a  good  walker  he  could  get  to  Moneglia  during  the 
forenoon,  spend  an  hour  or  so  there,  and  get  to 
Bonassola  towards  evening,  returning  by  train  to  Sestri  ; 
or  reverse  the  order  should  the  trains  suit  him  better. 

Some  of  the  little  towns  along  the  coast  are  dis- 
appointing and  others  are  beyond  our  expectations,  but 
the  views  obtained  while  reaching  them  can  disappoint 
no  one  to  whom  scenery  makes  an  appeal.  Levanto  is 
a  pleasant  litde  town  to  spend  a  day  or  two  in,  chiefly 
because  it  enables  one  to  visit  the  five  little  towns 
known  as  the  "  Cinque  Terre  "  and  which  do  not 
provide  equal  accommodation  for  a  traveller. 

These  five  medieval  towns  are  little  more  than  good- 
sized  fishing  villages  and  lie,  averaging  about  two  miles 
apart,  in  the  hollow  of  a  bay,  the  western  end  of  which 
is  the  Punta  di  Mesco  and  the  eastern  Capo  Monte 
Negro.  First  comes  Monterosso  ;  a  bright  and  clean 
little  town  of  between  three  and  four  thousand  inhabi- 
tants ;  it  has  an  interesting  old  church  and  vestiges  of 
its  ancient  walls.  It  is  worth  while  to  climb  up  to  the 
Capuchin  convent  ;  there  are  some  interesting  pictures  in 
its  church,  notably  a  Descent  from  the  Cross  attributed  to 
Van  Dyck  ;  but  it  is  its  surroundings  and  view  of  the 
coast  which  form  its  chief  attraction.  Monterosso  is 
86 


SESTRI   LEV  ANTE 


famous  for  its  Vino  Santo,  a  wine  often   mentioned    in 
accounts  of  bygone  banquets. 

Vernazza  and  Corneglia  and  tbe  intervening  strip  of 
coast  were  much  damaged  by  earthquakes  in  the  fifties 
and  sixties  of  last  century.  A  terrible  landslip  at  the 
former  place  brought  down  many  houses  and  terraced 
orchards  ;  huge  blocks  of  rock,  now  seen  in  the  creek, 
were  precipitated  from  the  heights  above.  As  an  agree- 
able rest,  a  boat  can  be  hired  at  Monterosso  to  take  one 
to  Vernazza,  thus  seeing  the  rocks  with  thin  semi- 
tropical  vegetation  to  a  greater  advantage. 

A  beautiful  road  leads  from  Corneglia  to  Manarolo, 
neither  of  which  places  has  in  itself  much  of  interest 
to  show.  But  Riomaggiore,  the  last  of  the  Cinque 
Terre,  makes  up  for  any  disappointment  an  artist 
may  have  experienced  in  the  other  four  townships.  It 
is  built  on  two  sides  of  a  gully  united  by  a  series  of  old 
bridges  of  varied  construction,  and  is  dominated  by  a 
medieval  castle.  What  it  lacks  in  cleanliness  has  its 
compensations  in  the  picturesque.  Should  time  be 
available  the  view  from  the  Madonna  di  Monte  Negro 
is  well  worth  the  half-hour's  climb  to  reach  it. 

The  name,  Le  Cinque  Terre,  was  given  to  these  five 
little  towns  when  in  medieval  times  they  formed  an 
alliance  for  self-protection.  Having  no  harbours  worth 
contending  for  they  escaped  many  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
the  coast  towns  affording  better  shelter.  Their  chief 
charm  lies  in  the  old-world  look  which  thev  still  retain. 

Portovenere  is  some  ten  miles  beyond  the  last  of  the 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

Cinque  Terre.  It  is  the  extreme  limit  of  the  eastern 
Riviera,  that  is  the  point  ot  the  promontory  which 
shelters  the  harbour  of  Spezia.  It  would  be  a  painter's 
paradise  were  it  not  for  some  forts  guarding  the 
approaches  of  what  may  be  regarded  as  the  Woolwich  of 
Italy.  The  forts  do  not  interfere  much  with  its 
pictorial  capabilities  ;  but  should  an  artist  attempt  to 
realize  them  it  is  more  than  likely  that  a  sentry  will 
walk  him  off  to  the  guard-room,  where  he  will  remain 
until  he  can  prove  that  he  is  not  a  spy.  A  German 
artist  was  tempted  to  risk  it,  and  not  only  was  he 
detained  for  a  couple  of  days,  but  had  his  sketches  and 
a  number  of  photographs  confiscated. 

A  temple  to  Venus  is  said  to  have  stood  on  the  site 
of  the  present  dilapidated  Gothic  church  of  S.  Pietro — 
hence  its  Roman  appellation  of  Portus  Veneris,  now 
softened  to  Portovenere.  It  was  taken  in  i  i  i  3  by  the 
Genoese,  and  many  of  the  walls  and  towers  they  built 
still  remain.  The  church  of  S.  Pietro  is  due  to  the 
same  Pope  who  built  S.  Lorenzo  in  Genoa,  with  which, 
besides  its  black  and  white  striped  marble  facade,  it 
has  many  things  in  common.  The  ruins  of  a  yet 
earlier  church  are  not  far  off,  and  are  said  to  have  been 
a  favourite  haunt  of  Byron  and  Shelley.  Its  beautiful 
situation  and  dramatic  associations  may  well  have 
attracted  them  to  it.  It  was  destroyed  by  Alfonso  ot 
Aragon  in  1494  when  Charles  VIII.  of  France  was  on 
his  march  to  Naples.  We  are  shown  the  spot  where 
Byron  conceived  and  wrote  a  part  of  his  Corsair." 
88 


SESTRI   LEV  ANTE 


*'  Through  it  the  sea-winds  ever  moan,  as  ii:  it  kept  the 
murmur  of  the  years  '  as  a  sea-shell  keeps  the  sound 
of  the  waves,"  as  Dr.  Macmillan  charmingly  puts  it. 

It  was  within  sight  ol  this  spot  that  Shelley  lost  his 
life  through  the  capsizing  ot  his  boat.  Yon  distant 
mountains  cast  their  shades  on  Viareggio's  strand  where 
the  sea  cast  up  his  mortal  remains. 

He  had  passed  his  last  summer  (that  ot  1822)  at 
Lerici,  in  the  Gulf  of  Spezia  ;  his  house  is  almost 
within  hailing  distance  of  one  at  S.  Terenzo,  which 
Byron  was  occupying  at  the  same  time,  and  whose 
yacht,  the  Bolivar,  found  anchorage  in  the  intervening 
little  harbour. 

Shelley    was   in    a   poor  state   ol   health   at   the   time  ; 

his   nerves   were   in   a   shattered   condition,   and   he   was 

subject    to    hallucinations.       In    the    diary    kept    by    his 

friend.   Captain   Williams,    we    read   that   while   the   two 

friends    were    strolling    on    the    terrace    one    night   and 

observing   the   efTect   of  the   moonshine   on    the   waters, 

Shelley    suddenly    grasped    his    companion's    arm,    and 

stared  steadfastly  on  the  white  surf  which  was  breaking 

on  the  beach.      When  asked  if  he  was   in   pain  he  only 

answered  by  saying  :    "  There  it  is  again  ;  there  !  "      He 

recovered   after   a  while    and    declared   that  he   saw,    as 

plainly  as  he  saw  Captain  Williams,  a  naked  child  rising 

from  the  sea  and  clapping  its  hands  in  glee,  smiling  at 

him.      "  This,"  writes  Dr.  Macmillan,    '  was  on  the  6th 

ot  Mav.    Two  months  afterwards  the  omen  was  fulfilled." 

To  ramble  about  here  with  a  sketch-book  as  well  as 

89 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

in  several  other  picturesque  spots  on  this  fort-ridden 
promontory  would  be  courting  disaster.  Let  us  return 
to  Sestri  Levante,  where  no  one  more  formidable  than  a 
small  boy  is  likely  to  interrupt  one's  occupation. 

A  whole  day  of  the  smallest  boys  is,  nevertheless,  a 
trying  ordeal,  and  I  was  glad  to  find  a  spot  from  which 
they  were  excluded.  This  I  found  in  the  beautiful 
grounds  of  the  Villa  Piuma.  The  house  is  situated  on 
the  peninsula,  where  the  town  ceases  to  climb  its 
slopes.  It  commands  a  view  of  the  busy  strand  with  a 
sweep  of  the  coast  till  it  reaches  the  promontory  of 
Portofino,  Lavagna  and  Chiavari  intervening.  The 
gardens  near  the  house  are  kept  in  good  order  ;  but  as 
one  reaches  the  higher  levels,  cypress-bordered  walks, 
the  ilex  groves,  and  the  noble  clusters  of  pines  have 
been  allowed  to  grow  as  Nature  pleases.  The  grounds 
extend  round  two-thirds  of  the  peninsula,  the  path  in 
places  skirting  the  edge  of  the  precipitous  cliffs  and 
circling  the  Campo  Santo  upon  the  highest  point  of 
the  headland. 

The    Marchese  Piuma  kindly  allows  (when  he  is  not 

in    residence)  the  visitors  to  Sestri    Levante  to  make  use 

of  his  grounds,  and  as  they  are  equidistant  from  the  two 

hotels  it  is  a  great  boon  to  those  who  spend  part  of  the 

winter  in  either  ;    to  artists  especially,  whether  they  wish 

to    make  studies  of  the  imposing  clifTs,  of  distant  views 

of  sea    and   coast,    or  of    a    semi-wild    and    picturesque 

Italian  garden.      There  are  the  remains  of  an  old  castle, 

without   which    any    promontory  on  this  coast  would  be 
90 


In   the   Villa  Piuma,  Sestri  LeVante 


li 


\ 

this 

tort- ridden 

Let 

:  us  return 

ble  than  a 

3S,  a 

hich 

tiful 

ued  on 

■nb    its 

with  a 

tory  of 

The 

Mnny^Jl  *ni?i9t>  .bmu\*^   nWi^I   9t\1    n\ 


visit 


s   have 

inds 

'1   in 

is   and 

point   ot 

lie  is  not 


u  ihe  two 

it  boo  the 

to  artis  vish 

of  the  imp  lews 

or  of  tresque 

pioniuniury  oii  .1  be 


SESTRI   LEV  ANTE 


incomplete  ;  and  adjacent,  although  just  out  of  the 
grounds,  stands  a  picturesque  twelfth-century  little 
church. 

This  church  had  been  remodelled  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century  in  the  worst  taste  of  that  period. 
Its  present  incumbent,  a  man  of  considerable  archaeo- 
logical knowledge  and  good  taste,  has  himself  undertaken 
its  restoration.  I  accompanied  him  there  with  con- 
siderable misgivings,  for  even  a  skilled  architect  may 
hopelessly  destroy  any  charm  which  the  rococo  builders 
may  have  left.  I  was  amazed  to  see  how  well  the 
priest  had  carried  out  the  work,  and  what  is  perhaps 
equally  amazing  is  that  he  should  have  been  able  to 
collect  sufHcient  money  in  a  neighbourhood  neither 
rich  nor  lacking  in  places  of  worship. 

The  good  padre  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  information 
about  Sestri  and  its  neighbourhood  ;  and  we  also  visited 
together  some  houses  where  works  of  art  are  to  be  seen. 
In  most  of  these  the  pictures,  though  not  of  the  first 
order,  seemed  hopelessly  out  of  keeping  with  the 
poverty-stricken  and  dilapidated  state  of  the  houses  they 
were  in.  In  one  case  I  found  old  masters  in  a  spacious 
drawing-room  with  bits  of  plaster  from  its  painted 
ceiling  lying  on  the  l^oor,  in  the  centre  of  which  lay  a 
heap  of  newly-gathered  olives  ;  one  had  to  take  care  not 
to  slip  when  stepping  on  a  stray  berry.  The  owner  m 
this  case  confessed  that  he  would  like  to  sell  his  pictures 
so  as  to  enable  him  to  repair  his  house. 

In     a     much     hunibler    abode,     though    not    in    as 

91 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

dilapidated  a  state  as  the  last,  I  was  shown  amongst 
others  some  really  fine  works  of  art.  The  great  names 
to  which  they  were  attributed  did  not  in  all  cases  carry 
conviction  ;  but  there  was  an  undoubted  canvas  by 
Tintoret,  a  small  panel  by  Rubens,  and  two  very 
characteristic  works  by  Tiepolo.  The  pictures,  worthy 
to  adorn  a  great  palace,  besides  many  others  ot  lesser 
excellence,  were  crowded  on  the  walls  ot  small  rooms, 
were  placed  on  chairs  or  stacked  in  a  corner.  One 
might  have  been  prepared  tor  this  in  the  premises  ot  a 
picture  dealer  or  of  an  antiquity  shop,  and  a  gentleman 
who  accompanied  us  threw  out  some  hints  to  the  owner 
that  he  was  prepared  to  do  a  deal.  We  soon  saw  that 
he  would  rather  have  parted  with  his  skin  than  with  any 
of  his  pictures,  even  though  their  number  made  his 
rooms  almost  uninhabitable.  He  is  a  medical  man, 
practising  at  Sestri,  and,  not  being  the  only  one  there, 
his  struggle  for  an  existence  must  be  a  severe  one.  He 
had  inherited  the  bulk  of  the  things  (much  valuable 
china  as  well  as  pictures)  and  had  added  to  them  when 
favourable  opportunities  ot  purchase  had  come  his  way. 
I  have  met  some  of  those  much  to  be  encouraged  people 
in  England,  who  not  only  had  covered  every  inch  ot 
their  walls  with  pictures,  but  had  them  also  in  stacks  in 
the  garrets.  But  these  were  wealthy  people  who  did  not 
have  to  deny  themselves  anything  to  pursue  this  hobby  ; 
whereas  in  this  case  it  was  pathetic  to  think  ot  how 
many  comtorts  this  doctor  was  deprived  rather  than  part 
with  what  he  had  in  an  embarrassing  superfluity. 
92 


SESTRI   LEV  ANTE 


The  peninsula  with  its  evergreen  crown  ot  cypress 
and  stone  pines  looks  its  best  from  the  path  leading  to 
the  Monte  Castello.  We  skirt  the  shore  of  the  eastern 
bay,  not  forgetting  to  borrow  from  the  landlady  of  the 
Miramare  a  key  of  the  gates  of  the  Villa  ManduUa. 
Having  ascended  the  road  and  passed  through  the  gates 
we  get  a  delightful  view  of  the  peninsula  and  ot  the 
bay  beneath  our  feet.  As  we  ascend  the  hill  our  view 
extends  over  the  houses  on  the  isthmus  and  to  the 
reaches  of  the  coast  beyond.  The  isthmus  looks  from 
this  point  more  like  a  house-covered  bridge  uniting  the 
island  to  the  mainland.  A  litde  higher  the  whole  ot 
the  TiguUian  Gulf  comes  within  our  range  of  sight. 
And  should  we  continue  the  path  right  up  to  the  tele- 
graph station  we  get  a  splendid  vista  ot  the  coast  to  its 
promontory  ot  Portovenere. 

We  can  extend  our  walk  by  descending  to  Riva — a 
dapper  fishing  village  at  the  head  of  the  next  bay — 
where  we  can  refresh  ourselves  before  returning  to  Sestri, 
via  S.  Bartolomeo  and  the  Via  delta  Chiusa. 

The  walks  inland  are  much  more  numerous  than  the 
drives,  as  paths  or  mule-tracks  abound,  but  metalled 
roads  are  few.  There  is,  however,  one  delightful  drive, 
making  an  easy  day's  excursion,  which  is  that  to 
Baracca.  The  road  rises  soon  after  leaving  Sestri,  and 
becomes  fairly  steep  after  passing  Trigoso  ;  then  winding 
through  the  pine-covered  hills  we  reach  the  Bracco  pass. 
The  scenery  there  becomes  very  wild  and  desolate. 
Tales  are  told    of  banditti  who  lay  here  in  ambush   tor 

93 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

travellers  in  the  days  when  this  was  the  only  high  road 
to  Spezia  and  Rome.  But  although  the  banditti  are  no 
more  the  wind  can  still  hold  up  travellers  and  make  it 
impossible  to  drive  in  the  teeth  of  it.  Leaving  Bracco 
behind  us  we  soon  see  above  the  road  traces  of  the 
Aurelian  Way  supported  by  arches,  and  here  and  there 
a  broken  bridge.  Four  or  five  miles  beyond  Bracco  we 
reach  the  Osteria  Baracca,  some  two  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level. 

The  snow-covered  Apuan  Alps  with  the  bold  oudines 
of  the  Carrara  mountains  give  us  a  never-to-be-forgotten 
panorama. 


94 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    MARIONETTE    SHOW,    AND    THE    CINEMATOGRAPH 

DRAMA 

NO  operatic  company  came  to  enliven  Sestri  during 
my  stay  ;  but  what  was  much  more  diverting 
was  a  series  of  marionette  performances  given 
in  a  booth  on  the  strand.  A  party  of  us  went  one 
evening  to  see  Roberto  il  Diavolo.  The  woman 
selUng  the  tickets  was  awestruck  when  I  asked  for 
eight  half-franc  seats  ;  word  was  sent  round  to  the 
proprietor,  who  deferentially  conducted  us  to  the  only 
row  of  chairs.  The  other  occupants,  who  seemed  on 
intimate  terms  with  the  members  of  the  orchestra,  were 
evidently  there  as  invited  guests.  The  remaining  seats 
were  a  series  of  benches  reaching  back  into  the  deep 
shades  of  the  booth,  and  varying  in  price  from  two- 
pence-halfpenny to  one  penny.  These  were  crowded 
to  the  uttermost,  and  I  recognized  some  ot  the  little 
pests  who  during  the  daytime  had  treated  me  and  my 
work  as  a  show  to  be  got  for  nothing.  The  orchestra 
was  composed   of  local    talent,   for   I   recognized  m   the 

95 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

bassoon  the  cobbler  who  had  soled  my  boots,  and  who 
now  nodded  to  me  as  a  practitioner  of  a  sister  art. 
The  clarionette  may  any  day  be  seen  chopping  pork 
into  sausage  meat,  and  the  big  drum  daily  whips  his 
horse,  from  the  box  ot  his  cab,  as  if  to  keep  his  hand 
in.  They  certainly  earned  whatever  they  were  paid,  it 
volume  of  sound  were  the  chief  desideratum,  more 
especially  the  man  who  worked  that  brass  instrument 
which  slides  in  and  out  ;  when  he  turned  round  to  see 
the  effect  he  produced  on  the  audience  the  notes 
seemed  to  hit  one  in  the  face.  Considering  the  scrap 
lot  of  musicians,  a  fairly' creditable  attempt  was  made  to 
give  us  Meyerbeer's  overture  of  Robert  the  Devil. 

When  the  curtain  went  up  we  saw  four  or  five 
puppets  seated  in  a  medieval  hall,  made  up  ot  the 
painted  rags  which  do  duty  in  country  theatres  for  any 
interior  from  the  Ptolemies  to  the  French  Revolution — 
Louis  Seize  in  this  case.  The  puppets  were  from  two 
to  three  feet  in  height  ;  it  was  only  when  a  musician 
stood  up  and  his  hat  blotted  out  a  whole  duke  that  we 
reahzed  that  they  were  no  higher.  The  dialogue  was 
in  good  Italian,  the  man  who  pulled  the  strings 
changing  his  voice  to  suit  each  performer,  and  the 
action,  suited  to  the  word,  was  as  real  in  these  puppets 
as  it  often  is  in  the  case  ot  a  live  super.  The  main 
departure  from  Scribe's  libretto  was  when  the  troubadour 
acted  the  tunny  man.  They  were  all  funny  enough  in 
all  conscience  ;  but  those  not  intended  to  be  so  were 
taken  an  grand  serieux  by  the  audience.  It  was 
96 


La  Viazza.  Sestri  LeVante 


1.1   vv  ii  < ' 


'tiici,    11 

•.lilH-lll 

to  see 
notes 


•  u'     live 

■n  dii) 
lion — 


""ings 

.:    the 

Hippets 


*       *.   J  i 


).. 


I  I  ^^  vi  ^* *  i  i<-  t  ■ 


r: 

ili.ii]i*UJKllJWil      •      -'^ 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


evident  that  the  troubadour  was  to  play  the  chief  role, 
tor  I  was  able  to  count  eight  strings  by  which  his 
actions  were  controlled,  whereas  Roberto  himself  had  no 
more  than  five  ;  neither  had  Roberto  a  practicable 
mouth,  which  from  nearness  to  the  stage  rather  spoilt 
the  illusion,  while  the  ftuiny  man  coidd  not  only  work 
his  mouth,  but  had  also  an  eye  he  could  wink.  His 
jokes  were  mostly  lost  on  me  as  he  alone  spoke  in  the 
Ligurian  dialect ;  they  were  also  of  a  topical  nature,  and 
it  was  perhaps  as  well  that  the  ladies  of  our  party  lost 
some  of  them.  He  had  all  the  tricks  of  the  low 
comedian  ;  he  made  his  hits  admirably,  and  paused  till 
the  audience  had  laughed  itself  out  so  as  to  lose  no 
point  till  the  noise  had  subsided.  The  harp  in  the 
orchestra  helped  him  with  his  guitar  ohhligati.  I  felt  a 
certain  sympathy  for  this  funny  man,  who,  in  spite  of 
his  jokes,  could  not  force  a  smile  on  his  stage  auditors  ; 
they  having  no  practicable  mouths  could  of  course  not 
smile  ;  and  everyone  being  of  the  bold  bad  man  type, 
fierce  expressions  were  a  stage  necessity. 

The  maiden  in  distress  tickled  our  party  more  than 
the  funny  man  ;  but  we  had  to  suppress  our  merriment 
in  deference  to  the  other  spectators.  Snivelly  noises 
behind  us  made  us  aware  that  the  maiden's  entreaties 
had  struck  a  sympathetic  chord  in  some  of  the  women. 
Roberto,  the  gay  deceiver,  was  as  great  a  stick  as  many 
a  live  tenor,  only  proving  that  the  man  who  pulled  the 
strings  was  a  critic  as  well  as  an  artist. 

The  ballet  was  screamingly  funny  and  yet  so  like  the 
7  97 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

real  thing ;  the  stereotyped  smile  and  straw-coloured 
hair  of  the  premiere  danseuse  ;  her  tat  legs  and  white 
shoes  with  the  toes  pointing  to  the  centre  of  the  earth  ; 
the  light  which  followed  her  up  and  down  the  stage  so 
that  neither  twirl  nor  pirouette  be  lost,  were  all  there. 
The  ladies  who  twirled  in  couples  before  their  alignment 
with  the  footlights  ;  their  swayings  from  right  to  left  on 
hinges  somewhere  beneath  their  corsets  ;  their  retire- 
ment to  the  upper  right  and  left  centres  while  the  star 
tripped  down  to  make  her  supreme  ef^^brt,  was  such  an 
excellent  caricature  of  the  real  thing  that  none  of  us 
will  ever  behold  a  live  ballet  with  a  dry  eye. 

After  more  scenes  in  the  ragged  splendour  of  the 
rococo  palace  the  wicked  barons  drew  lots  as  to  who 
should  carry  out  some  foul  conspiracy,  followed  by  deep 
libations  for  its  success  ;  and  the  funny  man  becoming 
hopelessly  drunk,  he  once  more  brought  down  the 
house,  when  the  curtain  came  down.  The  musicians 
relighted  the  cigarettes  which  they  had  stuck  behind 
their  ears  while  their  mouths  were  otherwise  occupied  ; 
and  these  answered  with  chafF  some  sarcastic  comments 
from  their  acquaintances  in  the  pit. 

The   noise    behind    the    curtain    prepared    us    for  an 

important    shift.      Four   beats  from  the  conductor,   and 

the    cigarettes    returned    to   the    ears    of    the    musicians. 

Sepulchral    sounds   came  from  the  cobbler's    bassoon    as 

the  curtain  rose,  and  disclosed  a  Walpurgis  night  scene. 

Green  lights  from  the  wings  added  mystery  to  the  rocks, 

which  a  current  of  air  causing  them  to  wobble  failed  to 
98 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


dispel.  A  sulphurous  smell  competed  with  the  tobacco 
in  the  auditorium,  and  the  smoke  from  both  sources 
slowly  mixed.  As  our  eyes  got  accustomed  to  the 
subdued  light  we  perceived  that  the  floor  ot  the  rocky 
landscape  was  paved  with  grave-stones.  The  maiden  in 
distress  appeared  once  more,  she  made  her  rkitatif  in 
as  good  a  falsetto  as  the  artist  with  the  strings  could 
produce  ;  then  she  tell  back  with  a  cry  ot  horror,  and  the 
grave-stones  litted  and  yielded  up  their  dead. 

Enter  Roberto  with  his  suite  ot  bold  bad  men. 
Conscience-struck,  the  hero  tries  to  resuscitate  the 
unconscious  maid.  The  villain  of  the  piece  laughs  deep 
and  loud,  but  stops  very  suddenly  when  a  corpse  rises  at 
his  teet  and  tries  to  drag  him  back  into  his  grave.  The 
maid  recovers  from  the  swoon  ;  is  about  to  have  another, 
on  the  entrance  of  a  grand  lady  who  is  doubtless  her 
rival  ;  but  she  takes  courage  at  the  sight  ot  the 
troubadour,  now  got  up  as  Harlequin.  The  corpses  are 
divided  in  two  camps  :  the  good  ones  trighten  the  rival 
lady  off  the  stage,  and  the  bad  ones  are  laid  low  by 
Harlequin's  wooden  sword.  The  villain  is  tripped  into 
an  open  grave  which  conveniently  closes,  and  a  duet 
between  Harlequin  and  the  maid  brings  down  the 
curtain. 

I  was  glad  to  see  that  the  cinematograph  had  not  yet 
stamped  out  this  peculiarly  Italian  torm  ot  entertain- 
ment, though  it  is  a  marvel  how  the  people  who  get 
them  up  can  live  on  the  poor  returns. 

The  cinematograph  was  here,  as  it  is  in  every  other 
7*  99 


AN  ARTIST   IN  THE   RIVIERA 

small  town  m  Italy  ;  it  requires  very  little  talent  to  work 
it,  and  is  therefore  bound  to  supersede  the  puppet  shows, 
which  require  special  talents  and  a  long  training. 

I  went  on  several  occasions  and  generally  witnessed 
the  same  mawkish  dramas  which  are  served  out  to  the 
uneducated  at  home.  I,  however,  attended  one  per- 
formance, which,  although  it  had  no  incidents  intended 
to  raise  a  smile,  caused  some  hilarity  amongst  the  tew 
English  who  were  present  beside  myself.  The  drama  is 
called  La  Vampira — -one  of  the  most  blood-curdling, 
hair-stand-on-end  bits  of  nonsense  ever  put  on  a  film. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  England,  mosdy  Jiclla  provmcia  di 
Oxford'' — the  palms,  aloes  and  cactuses  giving  the  true 
Oxfordshire  local  colour.  The  chief  characters  were  the 
aged  Duca  di  Murray  ;  His  Grace's  spinster  sister,  who, 
it  goes  without  saying,  was  down  as  La  Marchesa  di 
Murray  ;  an  adopted  son  of  the  former  called  Bill,  who 
was  also  a  foster  brother  of  the  Duke's  grandson  and 
heir  called  Willy.  La  Vampira,  to  all  appearance  a 
French  lady  of  the  dani-monde,  was  the  ruling  spirit  of 
an  Indian  sect  called  the  Vampires,  who  practised  their 
diabolical  rites  in  a  temple  somewhere  in  the  East  End  of 
London — Bianca  Cappella,  let  us  say.  There  were  also 
the  old  family  butler  called  Thompson  and  his  pretty 
daughter,  besides  a  number  of  Indians  of  the  Vampire 
sect,  detectives  and  London  policemen — the  latter 
recognizable,  of  course,  by  their  brass  helmets. 

The  plot  was  as  follows  : — The  aged  Duke  made  Bill 
his    private    secretary,    and    feeling    such     an     implicit 

100 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


confidence  in  his  adopted  son  he  gave  him  power  ol: 
attorney  to  sign  his  cheques  and  dispose  of  his  property. 
This  young  man  seemed  to  have  made  good  use  ot  his 
powers,  for  when  he  was  not  engaged  in  secretarial  work 
at  the  Villa  Murray  he  was  having  a  good  time  in  a 
luxuriously  furnished  fiat  in  London.  Meanwhile  Willy 
pursued  his  studies  at  Oxford. 

Bill  meets  the  Vampire  at  some  entertainment  and 
falls  a  prey  to  her  charms.  She  soon  learns  from  him 
what  his  relations  to  the  Duke  are  ;  and  to  further  the 
power  of  her  sect  she  induces  Bill  to  make  further  use 
of  his  power  of  attorney  to  draw  large  cheques  in  her 
favour.  When  Bill  is  next  seen  at  the  Villa  Murray  he 
fears  that  his  evil  doings  are  not  unsuspected  by  the 
Marchesa,  the  Duke's  spinster  sister.  He  is  also 
annoyed  at  the  marked  preference  the  old  lady  shows 
his  foster  brother.  The  spell  the  Vampire  has  cast  over 
him  soon  brings  him  to  London  again,  where  in  the 
meantime  the  scene  has  shifted  to  the  East  End,  and  we 
are  introduced  to  a  function  in  the  temple  of  the  Indian 
sect.  The  priests  are  sacrificing  to  Vishnu,  while  many 
of  the  initiated  prostrate  themselves  before  the  idol.  In 
the  midst  of  this  ceremony  enters  La  Vampira,  no 
longer  the  dcmi-numdaijie,  but  an  Indian  princess  in 
gorgeous  oriental  attire.  She  also  prostrates  herself 
before  the  God,  and  when  the  sacrifice  is  over  the  high 
priest  makes  her  swear  that  she  will  do  everything  in 
her  power  to  forward  the  work  of  the  sect. 

In   a   flash    the    scene    is    shifted    to    Bill's   chambers. 


lOI 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

The  Vampire  in  a  seductive  ball  dress  is  reclining  on  a 
lounge  next  to  her  victim.  She  worms  out  ot  him 
every  secret  of  the  Murray  family  ;  that  the  Marchesa  di 
Murray  is  enormously  wealthy,  and  has  willed  her 
fortune  to  her  great-nephew,  the  undergraduate  Willy. 
But  should  the  old  lady  die  intestate  before  her  brother, 
the  Duke,  the  latter  would  inherit  the  whole  of  her 
fortune.  With  some  reluctance  Bill  falls  in  with  her 
diabolical  scheme,  namely,  to  destroy  this  will,  and  leave 
it  to  her  sect  to  encompass  the  death  of  the  old  lady. 

This  having  been  explained  on  the  screen  we  are 
transported  to  the  Villa  Murray,  which  has  a  strong 
resemblance  to  the  Palazzo  Madama  at  Turin.  Tis 
midnight  ;  but  there  is  sufficient  light  to  allow  us  to  see 
stealing  from  behind  the  monument  to  the  Sardinian 
army — I  am  forgetting  that  we  are  in  La  Provincia  di 
Oxford  " — several  assassins  of  the  Vampire  sect.  They 
scramble  up  rain-pipes  and  from  shutter  to  shutter  till 
they  reach  a  certain  window.  We  are  in  the  Marchesa's 
bedroom  before  we  know  where  we  are,  and  we  see 
the  Indians  climbing  in.  No  spot  being  sacred  to  the 
maker  of  films  we  see  the  old  lady,  in  an  Italian  night- 
cap, peacefully  sleeping  in  her  bed.  A  slight  struggle 
as  she  tries  to  wrench  a  cloth  which  is  pressed  over  her 
mouth  and  all  is  over.  The  Indians  disappear  through 
the  window,  and  the  scene  changes  to  the  passage 
outside  the  room.  Here  we  see  Thompson  (the  old 
butler)  with  a  lighted  candle  and  knocking  at  the  door. 
Receiving   no   answer    he    opens    the    door,    anxious    to 

102 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


ascertain  the  cause  ot  some  noise  he  had  heard  in  his 
mistress's  room.  Horrified  at  what  he  sees  he  is  about 
to  leave  the  room  to  awaken  the  household  when  he 
meets  Bill  and  some  others  in  the  passage. 

Some  lines  are  next  projected  on  to  the  screen 
explammg  that  the  faithful  Thompson  is  suspected  of  the 
crime  and  put  under  arrest.  The  young  and  literate  in 
the  audience  read  this  aloud  to  the  old  who  either  can't 
read  or  whose  sight  is  not  sufficiently  good.  Hardly 
have  they  time  to  accomplish  this  when  the  letters  dis- 
appear and  we  are  introduced  to  the  secretary's  room. 
We  see  Thompson  being  questioned  by  an  inspector 
ot  police,  accompanied  by  two  constables,  evidently 
members  of  the  Turin  fire  brigade.  The  villainous  Bill 
watches  the  old  servant  being  led  away  by  the  minions 
of  the  law.  The  pretty  daughter,  Lidia,  of  whom  we 
have  seen  very  litde  so  far,  now  rushes  in  and  throws 
her  arms  round  her  father's  neck,  and  has  to  be  dragged 
off  by  the  police  before  they  lead  their  captive  away. 

We  hear  murmurs  in  the  audience  :  ''La  poveretta  ! 
Eh  la  hestia  !  "  the  latter,  of  course,  referring  to  Bill. 

After  an  explanation  that  Thompson  is  tried,  found 
guilty  of  the  murder  and  condemned  to  death,  the  film 
produces  what  it  calls  //  trihimale  di  Oxford.  This  was 
immense.  I  felt  like  an  Oxford  juryman  having 
a  nightmare.  The  court  had  frescoed  walls  and  a 
gorgeously  gilded  and  painted  ceiling,  also  a  Renaissance 
mantelpiece  with  a  bust  of  Victor  Emmanuel  sur- 
mounted by  the  arms  of  Italy.      The  judge  had  no  wig, 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

but  a  head-gear  like  a  top  hat  with  his  head  stuck  througli 
the  crown  and  the  brim  uppermost.  The  officials  looked 
like  Italian  waiters  got  up  for  the  occasion  and  the  jury- 
men like  ice-cream  vendors  and  organ-grinders  in  their 
Sunday-best.  The  procedure  seemed  all  topsy-turvy, 
and  after  the  sentence  was  pronounced  Thompson  was 
led  off  by  police  dressed  up  like  Napoleon  I. 

Barely  awakened  from  this  nightmare,  I  hear  the 
continuation  of  the  drama  being  read  by  a  young  woman 
to  a  deafish  old  lady  : — "  The  Duke  of  Murray,  now 
paralysed  and  semi-idiotic,  is  being  induced  by  Bill  to 
sign  a  will  leaving  him  all  his  disposable  property."  His 
Grace  is  enormously  aged  since  the  murder  of  his  sister  ; 
he  is  seated,  propped  up  with  cushions,  and  Bill  is 
guiding  his  hand  while  he  signs  a  document.  I  teel 
a  return  of  the  juryman's  nightmare  as  1  look  at  the 
surroundings  of  the  two  personages.  The  hall  in  the 
Oxfordshire  mansion  gets  hopelessly  mixed  up  with  one 
I  had  seen  in  a  Genoese  palazzo. 

The  screen  becomes  a  blank  and  down  comes  a 
curtain  covered  with  advertisements.  For  ten  minutes 
we  may  reflect  on  the  superior  merits  of  So-and-So's 
vermouth,  or  the  latest  thing  in  oil-presses  and  wine 
clarifiers,  or  the  anatomical  advantages  of  parts  of  ladies' 
underwear.  The  spectators  discuss  the  drama,  and 
small  boys  creep  from  the  penny  to  the  twopenny  seats 
while  the  caretaker  goes  out  to  have  a  drink. 

When    the  interval    is   over   we  are   informed  on  the 
screen  that   the   Duca  di    Murray  has  breathed  his  last 
104 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


that  Bill  and  the  Vampire  have  arranged  to  kidnap 
Willy,  the  legitimate  heir,  and  he  being  disposed  of,  Bill 
(tor  some  reason  not  clearly  explained)  inherits  both  the 
title  and  the  estates,  leaving  no  obstacle  to  the  Vampire 
becoming  the  Duchess  of  Murray. 

Act  n.,  Scene  I.  The  exterior  of  the  Palazzo 
Madama,  alias  the  Oxfordshire  ducal  mansion.  Time 
midnight.  A  motor  drives  up  to  the  entrance,  and 
Willy  steps  out.  Bill  meets  him  at  the  door.  Indians 
of  the  Vampire  sect  creep  from  behind  the  palms  and 
aloes  and  the  monument  to  the  Sardinian  soldiers,  and 
at  a  given  signal  they  fall  upon  the  unsuspecting  Willy  ; 
they  gag  him  and  lead  him  off.  Lidia  (daughter  of 
the  condemned  butler)  emerges  from  behind  a  statue  of 
Cavour  and  unseen  by  the  others  follows  them  ofl  the 
stage. 

Scene  II.  A  subterranean  dungeon  with  Willy  lying 
on  the  floor.  After  going  through  every  action  expres- 
sive of  malediction,  anticipated  revenge  followed  by 
despair,  he  hears  a  sound,  and  sees  the  door  move  on 
Its  hinges.  He  prepares  to  defend  himself  against  the 
assassins,  when  lo  and  behold  !  in  steps  Lidia  with  her 
finger  on  her  lips. 

We  are  shown  that  Lidia,  having  overheard  the  plot, 
had  tracked  the  Indians  to  the  dungeon  and  discovered 
where  the  key  was  kept.  In  the  next  scenes  we  see 
Lidia  leading  Willy  through  underground  passages  to  a 
room  where  a  meal  has  been  prepared.  A  short  interval 
and  we  see   a  spacious  room   in   the  Palazzo  Balbi  (let 

105 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

us  say),  alias  the  hall  ot  the  Oxfordshire  mansion,  and 
in  it  are  assembled  all  the  members  ot  the  Vampire  sect. 
A  mystic  marriage  of  Bill  and  the  Vampire  takes  place 
with  occult  ceremonies  due  to  the  occasion. 

In  a  flash  we  are  outside  the  building  once  more,  and 
we  find  a  number  of  carabi?iieri  from  Scotland  Yard,  be 
it  understood,  awaiting  the  signal  to  storm  the  mansion. 
Willy  gives  this,  and  the  armed  myrmidons  of  the  law 
enter.  The  final  scenes  are  stupendous.  The  carahiiiieri 
try  to  seize  Bill  and  the  Vampire.  A  revolver  shot  bowls 
one  over,  and  a  general  scrimmage  follows.  Indians  are 
shot  and  clubbed  with  rifles  ;  lamps  are  upset,  and  robes 
and  furniture  catch  fire  ;  La  Vampira  gets  enveloped  in 
flames  and  Bill  is  shot  while  trying  to  rescue  her  ;  the 
dais  and  thrones  of  the  mystical  marriage  become  the 
bride  and  bridegroom's  funereal  pyre.  Lidia  rushes  for- 
ward, is  received  in  the  arms  of  Willy,  who  claims  her  as 
his  future  Duchess,  and  Thompson,  the  released  butler, 
appears  opportunely  to  bless  the  young  couple  as  the 
curtain  descends. 

It  was  indeed  a  great  penn'orth  of  sensations  to  those 
in  the  pit,  and  we  in  the  exalted  half- franc  seats  could 
not  complain  that  we  had  not  had  our  money's 
worth.  We  had  possibly  not  seen  greater  balderdash 
than  we  may  find  in  the  numberless  cinema  shows  in 
England  ;  but  we  cannot  conceive  an  English  company 
going  to  the  great  expense  of  producing  so  long  a  film 
and  yet  taking  so  little  pains  to  give  it  some  verisimili- 
tude. Could  we,  were  the  order  reversed,  palm  ofT  on 
io6 


THE  MARIONETTE  SHOW 


an  audience  an  English  country  home  as  an  Itahan 
villa,  or  English  police  and  firemen  as  Italian  carabinicri 
and  pompieri ;  substitute  our  law  courts  for  Italian 
tribunali ;  in  short,  have  nothing  Italian  m  a  drama 
laid  in  that  country  ?  Possibly  most  ot  the  people  who 
attended  would  not  know  the  difference,  as  w^as  doubtless 
the  case  here.  But  this  film  was  not  produced  solely 
for  the  delight  of  humble  spectators,  it  had  doubtless 
been  seen  by  educated  people  in  the  larger  cities.  The 
absurdity  ot  the  plot  may  have  struck  many  who  would 
be  lenient  to  the  incongruities  ot  the  scenery.  An 
Italian  public  is  used  to  an  art  having  older  traditions 
than  the  art  ot  this  country.  The  pictures  it  sees  are 
mostly  in  the  churches,  and  whether  the  subjects  be 
scriptural  or  Roman,  the  dress  of  the  personages  and 
their  surroundings  are  more  or  less  those  ot  the  people 
and  the  locality  familiar  to  the  artists  who  painted  them. 
As  works  of  art  they  are  none  the  worse  tor  these 
anachronisms,  and  they  make  a  greater  appeal  to  the 
sympathies  of  their  beholders. 

It  is,  nevertheless,  affectation  in  a  modern  artist  to 
paint  scriptural  personages  in  the  dress  ot  the  quattro- 
cento. To  be  true  to  the  spirit  of  the  painters  ot  that 
great  period  they  should  dress  them  in  the  costume  of 
to-day  ;  but  they  would  not  be  true  to  the  spirit  ot  the 
public  tor  whom  they  work.  I  have  seen  pictures  in 
the  Paris  Salon  of  sacred  subjects  treated  this  way,  and 
instead    ot    awakening    a    sense     ot     reverence    m    the 

spectators,  an  aposde   in  a  billycock  hat  caused  roars  ot 

107 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

laughter.  Such  a  picture  would  not  please  the 
worsliippers  in  the  humblest  country  village,  for  although 
they  may  know  little  of  the  costume  ot  biblical  times, 
they  are  aware  that  it  was  very  dissimilar  to  that  of  our 
own. 

The  humble  folk  who  witnessed  this  cinematograph 
show  were  satisfied  that  the  present  period  was  that  of 
the  drama,  and  the  present  period,  as  they  knew  it,  is 
what  they  got. 


io8 


S.  SalVatore 


%'^o4o^\d'L   .X> 


CHAPTER    X 

S.   SALVATORE,   AND  THE  ACQUAINTANCE  I  MADE  ON   MY 

JOURNEY  TO  IT 

THE  village  of  S.  Salvatore  lies  about  three  miles 
inland  from  Lavagna.  Having  caught  only  a 
glimpse  of  the  latter  on  the  journey  from  S. 
Margherita,  I  wished  to  see  more  ot  that  place,  and  also 
to  satisfy  the  great  expectations  accounts  ol  S.  Salvatore 
and  its  church  had  raised.  Tired  of  wasting  much  of 
the  short  afternoons  in  waiting  for  overdue  trains,  1 
drove  to  Lavagna  and  decided  to  find  my  way  to  S. 
Salvatore  on  foot.  There  is  not  much  left  in  Lavagna 
to  suggest  the  antiquity  of  the  town  or  its  stirring 
history,  so  I  did  not  lose  much  time  there.  There  are 
several  roads  out  of  it,  which  lead  inland,  though  not 
given  on  my  map  ;  but  1  have  always  found  the  Italians 
very  friendly  in  giving  directions.  A  long  experience 
has,  however,  taught  me  to  be  careful  in  choosing  my 
informant.  Should  you  choose  a  poor  loafer,  he  may 
stick    to    you    much    longer    than    you    want    him,    in 

anticipation  of  a  tip.      You    may  also  drop   on    a  loafer 

109 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

who,  though  respectably  dressed,  may  also  stick  to  you, 
and  leave  you  in  the  uncomfortable  position  of  not 
knowing  whether  he  expects  a  tip  or  not.  Should  you 
ask  a  woman  and  she  tells  you  to  turn  to  the  right,  you 
must  always  ascertain  whether  she  means  her  right,  as 
she  faces  you,  or  that  of  the  way  you  are  going.  This 
difficulty  can  be  overcome  by  repeating  her  answer  and 
pointing  the  way  you  understand  she  means  ;  modesty 
will  probably  prevent  her  from  accompanying  you. 
She  is,  however,  an  untrustworthy  guide  where  com- 
plicated directions  are  required.  Possibly  the  workings 
of  her  mind  would  be  more  easily  grasped  by  a  lady 
pedestrian  than  by  a  mere  man.  Where  there  is  a 
choice,  I  therefore  address  my  questions  to  a  man  and 
choose  one  who  is  doing  some  work  he  cannot  leave,  or 
if  he  is  not  there  1  ask  one  who  is  going  in  the  opposite 
direction.  In  this  instance  I  was  in  an  empty  and 
shopless  street  ;  but  presently  I  met  a  gentlemanly- 
looking  man  and  asked  him  kindly  to  direct  me.  He 
told  me  that  the  three  ways  out  of  the  town  all 
converged  shortly  into  the  one  road  up  the  valley  of  the 
Entella.  That  was  all  I  wanted  to  know.  I  was  not, 
however,  to  get  ofT  as  easily  as  that.  "  I  am  not  par- 
ticularly engaged  this  afternoon,"  he  said,  and  I  should 
rather  like  to  have  a  look  at  S.  Salvatore  myself,  besides 
which  you  might  still  lose  your  way  before  reaching  the 
main  road."  I  pointed  to  the  threatening  sky  and 
suggested  that  as  S.  Salvatore  was  three  miles  off 
perhaps  we  had  better  not  attempt  the  walk.  Faint 
no 


S.  SALVATORE 


hopes  arose  of  being  able  to  shake  him  off  in  the  town 
and   find   my  way   out   by   myself.  Should    it   rain," 

he  answered,  we  need  go  no  further  than  La 
Maddalena,  where  we  can  see  the  church,  and  pick  up 
the  Chiavari  omnibus  on  its  return  to  Lavagna."  This 
was  all  so  kindly  meant  that  I  saw  no  means  ot  escape 
without  hurting  his  feelings.  We  thereupon  started  on 
our  way. 

I  am  not  a  Ligurian,"  he  informed  me,  men 
who  have  not  the  manners  to  help  a  stranger  on  his 
way  ;  1  am  a  Piedmontese,  and  whatever  else  we 
may  lack,  it  is  not  courtesy  to  strangers.  Yes,  they 
may  tell  you  the  way,  these  Ligurians  ;  but  will 
they  take  the  trouble  to  see  that  you  find  it  }  Not  a 
bit  of  it."  United  as  Italy  may  be  politically,  the 
people  of  the  different  states,  formerly  independent  of 
each  other,  still  retain  their  old  prejudices,  and  do  not 
hesitate  to  express  them.  Their  characteristics  are  also 
very  dissimilar.  I  should  not  like  to  say  that  the 
Ligurian  is  bad-mannered  ;  but  he  is  certainly  not  as 
courteous  as  the  Tuscan  or  as  most  of  the  people  1 
have  met  in  central  Italy.  1  know  too  little  of  the 
Piedmontese  to  endorse  my  companion's  unfavourable 
comparisons. 

About  a  mile  from  Lavagna  we  reached  La 
Maddalena.  It  is  a  small  church  which  has  of  late 
become  national  property,  partly  on  account  of  its 
historical  associations  and  partly  that  Gothic  churches, 
which  were  not  entirely  remodelled   in  the  sixteenth  and 

III 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

seventeenth  centuries,  are  comparatively  rare  in  Italy. 
There  is  an  interesting  fourteenth-century  fresco  on  the 
tacade,  but  not  much  else  to  detain  one  here.  A  bas- 
reliet  of  a  later  date  represents  St.  Francis  receiving  the 
stigmata,  on  which  there  is  a  figure  supposed  to 
represent  Dante.  The  poet  had  probably  been  here, 
for  he  alludes  to  the  river  near  by  in  his  "  Purgatorio  "  ; 
but  of  this  later  on.  The  road  on  to  S.  Salvatore  runs 
parallel  to  the  river,  though  not  near  enough  to  see  it. 
The  low-lying  valley,  till  the  hill  on  which  the  village 
stands  is  reached,  is  said  to  have  been  in  Roman  times 
an  inlet  from  the  sea,  and  archaeologists  mostly  agree 
that  the  ancient  city  of  Tigullia  spread  round  the  head 
of  this  inlet. 

When  once  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  attempt 
any  work  at  S.  Salvatore  that  afternoon,  I  was  very 
pleased  to  have  the  companionship  of  the  Piedmontese 
gentleman.  He  had  spent  two  years  in  the  Congo  in 
the  employ  of  the  Belgian  Government,  where  after 
repeated  doses  of  fever  he  was  obliged  to  return  home  ; 
and  he  was  now  living  at  Lavagna  to  escape  the  cold 
winter  in  Turin.  Interesting  as  his  Congo  experiences 
were,  that  which  he  told  me  relating  to  his  own  country 
comes  more  within  the  subject  of  this  book. 

Like  most  valleys  reclaimed  from  the  sea,  this  of  the 
Entella  is  very  fertile  and  cultivated  up  to  the  last  square 
inch.  Early  in  February  as  it  was,  the  garden  stuf^  was 
as  forward  as  in  May  at  home.  The  vines  were 
beginning  to  bud   six  weeks  earlier  than  they  do  in  the 

112 


S.   SALVATORE 


plains  oi  Piedmont,  I  was  told,  although  the  grapes 
ripen  a  month  earlier  in  the  latter.  The  milder  winters 
on  the  Riviera  cause  this  precocity  ;  but  once  the  cold 
season  is  passed  the  greater  heat  in  the  plains  forces  on 
the  grapes  to  an  earlier  vintage.  The  Riviera  is  as 
much  warmer  in  winter  than  Piedmont  and  most  ot 
Lombardy  as  it  is  cooler  than  these  places  in  summer. 

The  slopes  of  the  hills  surrounding  this  valley  are 
terraced  and  planted  with  olive  trees  ;  but  on  nearing 
the  summits  the  brown  stems  ol  chestnut  groves  were 
visible.  I  was  told  that  the  further  we  got  inland  and 
the  higher  the  altitudes  the  more  the  chestnut  supplanted 
the  olive.  1  asked  who  could  consume  this  vast  amount 
ot  edible  chestnuts  ?  We  do,"  was  the  answer  ;  but 
it  all  goes  to  Switzerland  first  and  returns  here  as 
chocolate."  My  companion  went  on  to  say  that  it 
took  very  litde  cocoa  to  flavour  a  great  deal  ot  chestnut 
paste,  and  this  with  the  addition  ot  sugar  made  up  the 
chocolate  so  largely  consumed  in  Italy.  One  naturally 
asks  :  Why  send  these  chestnuts  to  Switzerland  instead 
ot  employing  your  own  people  to  turn  them  into 
chocolate  }  "  The  high  taritl'on  sugar,"  is  the  answer. 
Sugar  being  roughly  tour  times  as  dear  in  Italy  (on 
account  ot  the  duties)  as  it  is  in  Switzerland  or  with  us, 
no  manufacture  ot  sweetstutls  is  possible.  It  is  true 
that  they  have  to  pay  on  these  chestnuts,  when  they 
return  in  the  form  of  chocolate,  in  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  sugar  added  to  them,  so  that  they  would  onh 
be  paying  it  at  the  Swiss  frontier  instead  of  in  the  ports 
8  113 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

where  it  is  usually  unloaded.  But  here  is  where 
Switzerland  has  the  advantage  ;  with  her  cheap  sugar  she 
can  make  cocoa  for  all  the  neighbouring  countries,  and 
can,  therefore,  make  it  in  such  huge  quantities  that 
Italian  firms  with  only  home  consumption  could  never 
compete. 

The  tax  on  salt  is  even  more  iniquitous  than  that  on 
sugar.  Instead  of  trebling  the  price  it  is  a  hundred- 
fold dearer  than  with  us.  It  is  pitiable  to  see  the  poor 
buying  their  salt  at  the  tobacconists  (the  only  people 
who  retail  it),  where  it  is  weighed  as  if  it  were  some 
precious  drug,  while  with  the  sea  all  around  them  they 
could  get  as  much  as  they  needed  by  distilling  the  water. 
Taxes  must  be  collected  somehow,  might  be  said  ;  but 
think  of  the  cost  of  guarding  the  whole  coast  of  Italy  to 
prevent  a  bucket  of  water  being  taken  out  of  the  sea. 
I  witnessed  an  example  of  this  one  year  at  S.  Remo. 
A  lady  in  the  same  hotel  as  myself  had  been  ordered  to 
take  salt-water  foot-baths,  and  as  the  garden  of  the  hotel 
went  down  to  the  shore,  a  servant  was  daily  sent  to 
fetch  a  bucketful  of  sea-water.  He  was  caught  one  day 
by  a  coastguard  who  followed  him  into  the  hotel  and 
did  not  leave  till  he  was  satisfied  that  this  water  was  used 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  bathe  the  lady's  feet.  Poor 
folk  would  not  have  got  ofT  so  easily,  as  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  prove  to  any  Italian  coastguard  that 
the  water  was  got  for  so  useless  a  purpose  as  the  washing 
of  feet.  There  are  a  few  places  now  where  fisherfolk 
can  buy  salt  at  a  reduced  price,  if  solely  intended  for 
114 


S.   SALVATORE 


salting    their   lish  ;    but  they   may  have  to  go  so   tar  to 

fetch  it  that  it  often  pays  them  better  to  let  the  fish  rot 

and  sell  it  as  manure  than  to   put  it  into  salt.      Should 

a   cottager    turn    his    pig  into  bacon,  the    salting   would 

make    it   so   dear    that  he  would  not  be  able  to  sell  it. 

Happily    the    Government    now    cease    to    penalize    the 

malaria-stricken    in   need   ot    quinine.      This   drug    was, 

owing  to  the   duty,   enormously  dear  a  tew   years   ago  ; 

but  the  stupidity  of  this  has  been  recognized,  and  now 

every  licensed  tobacconist  is  obliged  to  retail  it  at  a  low 

price  fixed  by  the  Government. 

The    two    last    duties    had    not    even    the    redeeming 

feature    ot    protecting   a  native    industry,    for  the   whole 

country    is    surrounded    by    salt,    and    it    cannot    grow 

cinchona.       My    companion,    as    well    as    every    other 

educated    Italian    1   have    spoken    to,    was    aware    ot    the 

paralysing  etTect  on  all  industries  by  the  high    duties   on 

most   things.        '  You    are    happier  in    England   in  that 

respect,"  was  the  usual  answer,      "  But  what  are  we    to 

do  to  raise  the  money  to  keep  up  our  Army  and  Navy  ? 

And  were  we  to  dismiss  the  host  ot  men  who  collect  the 

duties  not  only  on  our  frontiers,  but  in  every  town,  we 

should   have    some   hundreds    ot    thousands    ot    starving 

men    in   a    state    of  rebellion."      When  I  told  him  that 

a  large  party  in  England  are  clamouring   tor    tariffs  his 

answer   was  :        Let   them   come    here    and    see    how    it 

works." 

We  got  on  to  the  subject  of  the  Tripoli   war.      His 

views  were  that  at  all  costs   Italy  could  not  risk  Tripoli 
8*  115 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

falling  into  the  hands  ot  any  other  great  Power  ;  and 
there  seems  little  doid:)t  that  this  would  have  been  the 
case  had  Italy  not  chosen  an  opportune  moment  to 
establish  herself  there.  I  was  in  Italy  during  nearly  the 
whole  period  of  that  war,  and,  with  few  exceptions, 
I  heard  nothing  but  complaints  about  the  waste  of 
millions  to  acquire  tracts  of  African  desert,  instead  of 
developing  the  resources  of  Italy  or  lessening  the  burden 
of  taxes  which  fall  so  heavily  on  the  people. 

My  companion  seemed  more  hopeful  about  these 
tracts  of  African  desert."  "  They  are  finding  in  many 
places  pavements  of  Roman  villas  beneath  the  sand  ; 
and  where  a  villa  existed  there  will  have  been  gardens 
as  well  as  water  to  make  cultivation  possible.  To  sweep 
off  the  sand  which  has  invaded  the  fertile  soil  must  be 
the  next  undertaking,  and  money  for  that  purpose  is 
being  voted  in  Parliament."  Let  us  hope  they  may 
find  some  cheaper  way  of  combating  the  inroads  the 
desert  makes  on  the  cultivation  than  has  been  found  by 
the  eminent  engineers  who  have  attempted  this  in 
Egypt. 

While  discussing  these  and  other  matters  we  reached 

the   head   of  the    valley  ;    and    looking    back    from    the 

higher   ground,    as   we   approached   S.    Salvatore,    it   was 

easv  to  realize  that  the  sea  once  reached  the  foot  of  the 

hill.      Whether  we  were  really  on  the  site  of  the  ancient 

Tigullia    we    must    leave    the    archaeologists    to    decide. 

The  medieval  S.    Salvatore  has  a  charm   which  I  doubt 

any  Roman  settlement  here  ever   possessed.       It  has  not 
ii6 


S.  SALVATORE 


the  extreme  poverty-stricken  look  ot  the  remote  villages 
in  the  Ligurian  mountains,  nor  yet  the  signs  ot  bad  taste 
so  often  associated  with  newly-acquired  prosperity.  Its 
fine  Gothic  church,  on  one  side  ol  the  piazza,  is  nearl) 
equalled  in  interest  by  the  medieval  Fieschi  palace  of 
the  other.  Immediately  opposite  is  the  now  disusea 
seventeenth-century  parish  church  with  its  picturesque 
dismantled  campanile. 

The  ruined  later  church  standing  so  near  the  repaired 
and  now  used  earlier  one  required  some  explanation 
and  this  I  got  later  on  from  the  courteous  parish  priest. 
When  the  Fieschi  w^ere  Counts  of  Lavagna  and  a]f 
powerful  in  this  district  Sinibaldo  Fieschi  on  his 
elevation  to  the  papacy  under  the  name  of  Innocent  IV. 
built,  or  rather  reconstructed,  the  old  church  to  be  used 
as  the  private  chapel  of  the  Fieschi  palace  near  it.  It 
was  consecrated  in  1252  by  his  nephew,  Cardinal 
Ottobone  Fieschi,  afterwards  Adrian  V.  When  the 
interests  of  the  family  were  transferred  to  Genoa  both 
the  palace  and  the  church  fell  into  disrepair,  and  in  the 
seventeenth  century  the  people  built  a  parish  church  of 
their  own  ;  this  thev  used  till  recent  times  when  the 
Government  undertook  to  restore  the  earlier  church. 
And  when  this  was  put  into  proper  repair  it  was  made 
the  parish  church,  and  the  seventeenth-century  one  was 
allowed  to  fall  into  its  present  state  of  ruin. 

The  restorations  have  been  carefullv  executed,  and 
the  villagers  may  well  be  proud  that  their  present  parish 
church    is    the    finest    of    the    duecento    on    the    whole 

117 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Riviera.       Its    ta(;ade    is    somewhat    similar    to    that    ot 

S.    Matteo    at    Genoa  ;    striped   in    layers    ot    black    and 

white  stones,  a  shallow  pointed  roof  and  catch-drip  over 

the  porch  and  a  rosette  window  in   the   gable,    the   latter 

being  a  very  fine  example.     Simple  round-headed  windows 

light   the   aisles,  and    similar   ones  are   in   the  clerestory. 

The  nave  looks  short  for  the  massive  tower  at  the  east 

end,   which   is   rooted   by   an   octangular   spire   and  tour 

turrets.      Two  clusters  ot  windows  with  detached  marble 

shatts  are  superimposed  on  the  tour  sides  ot  the  tower. 

The    church    would    not    call    tor    special    remark   in 

England,  where  we  have  so  many  good  examples  ot  that 

period  ;  but  Gothic  is  less  seen   in   Italy  as  most  of  the 

early    churches  were    remodelled   out   of  all   recognition 

during  the  late  Renaissance.      The  interior  is  simple  and 

dignified  and  has  not  been  spoilt  by  over-decoration. 

The    fac^ade    of  the   palace   is   also   built   in    alternate 

layers   of  black   and   white   stone  ;    a   small   part   of  this 

now  remains  ;    but  it  we  step  round  to  the  back  of  the 

building   we    get    some   idea   of  its    tormer    dimensions. 

Parts  are  let  out   in   tenements   to   the    poorest    people, 

while  the  bulk  of  the  interior  is  used  as  a  storehouse  tor 

farm  produce. 

This  village  and  district  suffered  terribly  after  Sinibaldo 

Fieschi    became   Pope.      His    family    had    been    leading 

Ghibellines,  he  being  specially  friendly  with  the  Emperor 

Frederick    II.  ;    but    when,    after    his    elevation    to    the 

papacy,    he    threw    in    his    lot    wqth    the    Guelt    party, 

Frederick  singled  out  his  demesne  for  destruction.      The 
ii8 


S.   SALVATORE 


emperor  not  only  laid  waste  the  countryside,  but  dealt 
havoc  in  Lavagna  and  Chiavari.  His  worst  act  was  the 
destruction  of  the  bridge  of  La  Maddalena  connecting 
the  two  towns,  and  which  the  Fieschi  had  built  some 
thirty  years  previously. 

The  river  now  known  as  the  Entella  was  formerly 
called  the  Lavagna,  and  it  is  from  this  river  that  the 
Fieschis  took  their  title. 

Dante  is  perhaps  as  hard  on  the  next  Fieschi  who 
ascended  the  papal  throne,  for  he  places  Adrian  V. 
amongst  the  avaricious  in  the  "  Purgatorio  "  : 

"  del  tutto  avara  : 
Or,  come  vedi,  qui  ne  son  punita." 

Wholly  avaricious  ;  now,  as  thou  seest,  here  am  I 
punished  for  it."  He  tells  the  poet  that  it  was  from 
the  tair  river  between  Sestri  and  Chiavari  that  the  title 
ot  his  race  took  its  origin  : 

"  Intra  Siestri  e  Chiaveri  si  adima 
Una  fiumana  bella,  e  del  suo  noma 
Lo  titol  del  mio  sangue  fa  sua  cima." 

In    the     happy-go-lucky    untidiness    ot    this    Italian 

village,    it    is    hard    to     conjure     up    the    functions    it 

witnessed  while  the   Counts   of   Lavagna  held  their  court 

in    the    dilapidated    palace.        It    is    perhaps    easier    to 

picture  it  after  the  mercenaries  of  Frederick  IL  had  done 

their  work. 

Our  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the  threatening  look 

119 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

of  the  sky  ;  we  had  barely  time  to  reach  the  ostcria 
at  the  foot  ot  the  hill  when  the  rain  came  down  in 
torrents.  While  sampling  the  white  wine  ot  the  district 
I  inquired  whether  there  was  any  place  where  I  could 
put  up,  for  I  looked  forward  to  a  week  or  more  of 
sketching  in  this  romantic  village.  There  was  no  place 
nearer  than  Lavagna,  and  the  hotel  there  promised  as 
much  of  the  simple  lite  as  the  greatest  simpleton  could 
wish.  We  will,  however,  reserve  this  alhcrgo  tor  a 
tuture  chapter. 

The  rain  ceasing,  we  picked  our  way  back  to  Lavagna 
along  the  road  which  had  become  a  shallow  ditch. 
We  met  groups  ot  peasants  returning  from  the  Chiavari 
market  ;  some  to  the  villages  on  the  road  up  the  valley, 
and  others,  less  fortunate,  who,  alter  reaching  Concenti, 
some  eight  miles  from  the  coast,  would  still  have  hours 
to  tramp  before  gaining  their  homes  in  the  mountains. 
Railroads  are  tew  and  tar  between  in  this  part  of 
Liguria.  There  are  hamlets  a  day's  tramp  from  the 
nearest  station,  and  there  are  many  poor  peasants  who 
see  this  station  for  the  first  and  last  time  when  they 
leave  their  homes  to  seek  tortune  in  America.  The 
majority  go  to  the  Argentine  Republic,  and,  should  their 
ambitions  be  realized,  some  mav  end  their  davs  m  one 
of  those  atrocious  villas  we  referred  to  at  S.  Margherita  ; 
the  less  prosperous  may  find  their  way  back  to  their 
native  villages  ;   but  the  vast  majority  see  Italy  no  more 

There    are    also    districts    whose    youth    emigrate    to 
California,   as   I    discovered   later   on   while   m   a   village 

120 


S.  SALVATORE 


overlooking  this  valley.  1  happened  to  ask  some 
directions  of  a  poor  old  woman  and  was  astonished 
when  she    remarked    in    transatlantic   accent  :  I  guess 

you  are  a  Britisher."  She  soon  dropped  into  her  native 
language  as  if  that  of  the  wealthier  Americans  seemed 
out  of  place  in  her  poverty-stricken  surroundings.  She 
had  gone  to  California  to  join  her  daughter  and  son-in- 
law  ;  she  remained  with  them  some  twenty  years, 
during  which  time  she  had  scraped  enough  together  to 
pay  for  a  passage  back  to  her  native  village.  The 
disillusions  of  a  return  after  a  long  absence  were  on  her 
yet.  Nothing  had  changed  much  in  the  aspect  ot  her 
village,  though  she  felt  these  changes  acutely.  Most 
of  her  contemporaries  were  gone,  and  she  telt  a  stranger 
amongst  the  newly  grown  generation.  There  was 
nothing  now  left  for  her  but  to  eke  out  a  poor 
existence  till  her  final  emigration  would  give  her  the  rest 
she  needed. 

After  three  hours  with  the  gentleman  of  whom  I  had 
asked  my  way  I  bid  him  good-bye  from  an  omnibus 
returning  to  Sestri.  The  work  I  had  started  with  the 
intention  of  doing  was  unfulfilled  ;  but  1  had  so 
enjoyed  this  man's  companionship  that  I  was  thankful  I 
had  not  succeeded  in  my  attempts  to  shake  him  of^. 
If  he  be  a  fair  specimen  of  the  courtesy  of  the 
Piedmontese  I  should  like  to  live  in  his  country. 


121 


CHAPTER  XI 

LAVAGNA    AND    CHIAVARI,    AND    A    WORD    CONCERNING 

S.     SALVATORE 

"  Intra  Siestri  e  Chiaveri  si  adima 
Una  fiumana  Bella,  e  del  suo  nome 
Lo  titol  del  mio  sangue  fa  sua  cima." 

Pur  gator  io,  c.  xix. 

A  SPELL  of  rain  kept  me  longer  at  Sestri  than  I 
had  intended.  I  made  several  attempts  to  get 
a  drawing  of  the  bay  we  overlooked,  and  of  the 
peninsula  partly  enclosing  it.  I  tried  it  when  the  whole 
spit  of  land  told  light  against  a  black  thundercloud;  but 
when  this  cloud  passed  like  a  shower  bath  over  my 
head,  my  washes  of  colour  soon  mixed  with  the  streams 
in  their  downward  course  to  the  sea.  Some  hours  of 
sunshine,  on  the  following  day,  produced  a  tame-look- 
ing drawing,  unpictorially  cut  up  in  its  light  and  shade, 
and  only  fit  for  the  waste-paper  basket ;  but  my  patience 
was  finally  rewarded  by  a  couple  of  afternoons  of  a  fairly 
steady  and  becoming  effect,  and  I  felt  I  could  sing  my 
Nunc  dimittis,  unconquered  by  the  peninsula  which  gives 
Sestri  its  charm  and  character. 

To   impress   the   small   fry   in  his  hotel,  the  landlord 

122 


La  Penisola.  Sestri  LeVante 


^^no^sJi  i-xii^'L  ,n\oiJn9*?  o»l 


IVm 


■{  a  tairix 
ind  1  tell   i  sing  n\\ 

whicl 


J^ 
mi' 


vV 


LAVAGNA  AND  CHIAVARI 


had  hung  up  many  photographs  oi  an  important  fish  he 
had,  two  years  previously,  landed  in  his  net.  Needless 
to  say  that  the  hotel  omnibus  is  what  the  staft  figuratively 
call  the  net. 

I  had  often  wondered  how  it  was  that  the  Grand 
Hotel  Jensch  had  missed  this  catch,  for  that  hotel  is  one 
of  those  huge  blocks  which  would  look  more  in  place 
had  it  been  dumped  down  at  Nice  instead  of  on  the 
beach  of  a  small  fishing  town,  where  its  weight  looked 
as  if  it  would  buckle  the  strip  of  coast  on  which  it  rests. 
Nevertheless,  much  as  I  might  prefer  the  less  pretentious 
Miramare,  the  Grand  Hotel  Jensch  would  be  the  one 
anv  courier  would  sinele  out  for  the  tourists  he  accom- 
panied. 

The  photographs  were  of  no  less  a  personage  than  the 
ex-President  Roosevelt  and  of  those  of  his  suite.  He 
was  seen  alighting  from  the  net,"  bedecked  for  the 
occasion  with  stars  and  stripes  ;  in  another,  the  landlord 
was  conducting  him  into  the  basket — I  mean,  the  hotel 
lounge —  ;  he  and  his  party  were  also  shown  feeding  the 
monkeys  on  the  terrace,  with  my  little  peninsula  in  the 
background  ;  and  the  photograph  most  in  evidence  was 
the  leave-taking  of  the  ex-President  and  our  landlord. 

It  was  not  until  the  day  after  I  had   left    Sestri,  and 

was  having  more  of  the  simple  life  than   I    quite    cared 

for  in  the    Lavagna  inn,  that   my  eye   caught  a  heading 

in  a  copy  of"  "  La  Tribuna  di    Roma,"    and  which  was 

dated  from  Sestri    Levante:    "  Una    vertenza  giudiziaria 

fra   due  alhergatori  pel  viaggio  di  Roosevelt  in    Italia.'' 

123 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

That  is  :  A  judicial  dispute  between  two  hotel-keepers 
concerning  the  tour  of  Roosevelt  in  Italy.  The  article 
is  worth  translating,  and  runs  as  follows  :  We  have 
narrated,  some  time  back,  in  these  columns  how  the  last 
journey  of  Teodoro  Roosevelt  in  Italy  had  given  rise  to 
lengthy  litigation  between  two  hotel-keepers  in  the 
Ligurian  Riviera. 

The  facts  briefly  stated  are  as  follows :  The  Signor 
Cappellini,  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  Europe  e  Miramare  of 
Sestri  Levante,  having  learnt  that  on  the  7th  of  April, 
1 910,  Mr.  Roosevelt  would  be  arriving  at  Sestri  in  a 
motor-car  from  Spezia,  he  sent  a  carriage  to  meet  him 
on  the  road  ;  with  this  carriage  went  Dr.  Prato,  the 
sanitary  director  of  the  hotel,  as  well  as  the  secretary, 
Signor  Kronauer.  They  met  Mr.  Roosevelt's  car  in  the 
Bracco  pass,  and  the  secretary,  who  spoke  English,  ad- 
dressed himself  to  its  occupants,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  Messrs.  Cook  &  Son  had  engaged  rooms  at  the 
Hotel  Jensch,  this  secretary  managed  to  bring  the  ex- 
President  and  his  party  to  the  Miramare,  where  they  put 
up  for  the  night. 

"  11  Signor  Federico  Jensch  was  not  going  to  take  this 
lying  down  ;  but  sued  Cappellini  in  the  local  court  for 
damages,  which  damages  he  was  prepared  to  give  to  a 
local  charity.  The  court,  however,  gave  it  in  favour  of 
their  countryman,  and  Jensch  had  to  pay  the  costs. 
The  latter  then  appealed  to  a  higher  tribunal  at  Chiavari 
and  there  he  won  his  case,  Cappellini  having  to  pay, 
besides  the  damages,  the  costs  of  both  trials. 
124 


LAVAGNA   AND   CHIAVARI 


"  Signer  Cappellini  in  his  turn  appealed,  and  the  case 
was  after  much  delay  retried  at  the  high  court  in  Turin. 
Here  it  went  again  in  favour  ot  his  German  rival,  and 
mine  host  of  the  Miramare  had  the  costs  of  this  far  more 
expensive  trial  added  to  what  had  gone  before  ! 

Whether  the  photographs  still  adorn  the  lounge  at  the 
Miramare  I  cannot  say  ;  they  may  continue  to  impress 
the  smaller  fry  drawn  in  by  the  hotel  net  ;  but  would  be 
unpleasant  reminders  of  the  big  fish  which  cost  the 
proprietor  so  dearly. 

I  made  an  early  start  for  Lavagna  and  left  my  traps 
at  the  station  till  I  saw  what  accommodation,  if  any,  was 
to  be  had.  The  inn  is  a  rough  and  tumble  kind  of 
place  ;  but  I  thought  I  might  put  up  with  it  until  I  had 
got  a  drawing  of  S.  Salvatore.  After  I  had  satisfied  the 
police  regulations,  which  require  one  to  fill  in  a  form 
stating  nationality,  age,  profession,  etc.,  I  was  asked  by 
the  landlady  whether  I  had  come  to  see  to  the  machinery 
in  a  large  spinning  mill  lately  put  up.  She  was  expect- 
ing someone  from  Huddersfield  who  had  the  lively 
prospect  of  spending  the  next  six  months  as  her  guest. 
I  told  her  my  business,  and  asked  her  to  put  me  up 
some  lunch,  as  I  should  be  spending  the  whole  day  at 
S.  Salvatore  ;  meanwhile  my  traps  were  brought  from  the 
station. 

The  establishment  consisted  of  the  landlady,  a  fine 
buxom  widow  ;  her  son,  a  youth  of  eighteen,  and  a 
drudge  who  came  in  for  the  day.  The  inn  they  had  to 
run   was    a    large    rambling    place,     partly     cafe,    partly 


12; 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

restaurant,  with  bedrooms  high  up  in  the  adjoining  house, 
which  had  been  ingeniously  tacked  on.  It  all  centred 
round  the  caf£,  and  most  ol  the  male  population  of 
Lavagna  centred  round  this  also.  It  was  a  large  and 
spacious  room,  opening  on  to  the  piazza,  with  a  counter  at 
the  further  end,  behind  which  the  widow  Tagliabue  or 
her  son  Giuseppe  might  at  all  times  be  seen,  preparing 
small  cups  oi  coffee,  against  a  background  of  various 
colours  mixed,  purple  and  gold."  Whether  it  was 
"  botded  sunshine  "  which  loaded  the  shelves,  rising  tier 
upon  tier  to  the  ceiling,  or  whether  the  flasks  merely 
contained  coloured  water  I  never  ascertained,  as  I  never 
saw  one  called  for  or  uncorked.  The  ones  that  meant 
business  were  large,  and  their  purple  and  golden  contents 
were  stoppered  with  bits  of  newspaper.  A  trailing  vine, 
painted  al  fresco,  bordered  the  ceiling,  and  fat  little  boys 
flew  from  cloud  to  cloud,  bringing  cups  of  nectar  to  the 
Olympian  beings  clustered  in  the  centre.  Portraits  of  the 
reigning  family,  a  picture  of  Garibaldi  at  Aspramonte  and 
a  fly- marked  presentment  of  Pio  Nono  decorated  the 
walls. 

The  odour  of  coflee  and  tobacco  mixed  harmoniously 
enough  with  the  undercurrent  of  sawdust,  till  disturbed 
by  a  smell  of  fritata,  on  the  door  to  the  kitchen  being 
opened.  The  draught,  each  time  a  customer  entered, 
would  drive  this  new  blend  into  the  restaurant  and  out 
through  its  ill-closing  windows.  I  had  time,  more  than 
enough,  to  study  the  people  who  frequented  this  cafe,  as 
ten  days  of  broken  weather  kept  me  in  Lavagna  before  I 
126 


LAVAGNA  AND  CHIAVARI 


could  get  through  the  drawuig  at  S.  Salvatore,  which 
I  began  on  the  day  of  my  arrivaL 

The  Gothic  church  seen  under  a  clouded  sky  would 
give  the  impression  of  an  English  landscape,  were  it  not 
for  the  accessories  in  the  foreground.  It  was  a  case  ot 
making  the  most  of  my  tune  between  the  showers  ot 
rain.  The  road  from  Lavagna  became  almost  mipass- 
able,  and  when  tempted  by  a  clear  sky  to  tramp  the 
three  miles  of  mud  separating  the  village  from  the  town, 
it  was  often  a  case  of  spending  most  of  the  day  in  the 
shelter  of  a  shed. 

A  fair  number  of  Miramare  acquaintances  turned  up 
here  from  Sestri  on  the  false  promise  of  a  fine  day  in 
store.  My  German  friend  rattled  ofT  an  impression  on 
a  four-foot  canvas  during  an  mterval  between  the  showers. 
Padre  Giuseppe,  the  restorer  of  his  church  on  the  Sestri 
peninsula,  came  here  also  with  an  expert  photographer, 
and  the  church  was  photographed  from  every  side.  We 
called  on  the  parroco,  and,  while  sipping  his  wine,  we 
discussed  the  Fieschi,  their  dilapidated  palace,  and  the 
restoration  of  the  parish  church.  He  told  us  that  the 
Qtieen  Margherita  wished  to  buy  the  palace  so  as  to  have 
it  restored  to  some  of  its  former  splendour  ;  but  its 
present  owners  opened  their  mouths  too  wide,  and  may 
now  content  themselves  with  what  rent  they  can  squeeze 
out  of  the  poor  people  who  share  its  tenancy  with  the 
rats. 

Had  fine  weather  favoured  my  stay  at  Lavagna,  I 
should  have  remembered  this  beautifully  situated  village 

127 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

of  S.  Salvatore  as  a  painter's  paradise,  instead  of  a  quag- 
mire receiving  the  soak  from  its  ampliitheatre  of  hills. 

Lavagna  being  only  two  miles  distant  from  Chiavari, 
with  a  good  service  of  omnibuses,  the  latter  place  was  a 
great  resource  on  wet  days.  It  is  by  far  the  largest  town 
between  Genoa  and  Spezia,  and  has  over  10,000  in- 
habitants. It  is  much  more  interesting  than  1  had  been 
given  to  suppose,  its  arcaded  streets  reminding  one  of 
Padua — and  what  a  blessing  these  arcades  are!  Why 
every  town  in  Southern  Europe  has  not  adopted  these 
seems  extraordinary.  Their  usefulness  in  rainy  weather 
is  apparent  to  everyone  who  visits  Italy  in  winter,  and  to 
those  who  have  to  summer  there  they  are  an  even  greater 
blessing.  The  shopman  can  show  his  goods  without 
havmg  to  screen  them  from  the  sun,  and  his  customers 
can  examine  them  without  being  half  baked  on  the  pave- 
ment. But  beyond  their  utility  what  dignity  they  give 
to  the  street :  each  house  supported  by  arch  and  column 
instead  of  appearing  to  rest  on  sheets  of  plate-glass,  as  is 
so  often  the  case.  The  fear  of  obstructing  too  much 
daylight  has  prevented  its  adoption  in  most  northern 
towns,  and  in  the  days  of  oil  lamps  this  was  understand- 
able; but  with  our  present  means  of  illumination  the 
advantages  would  more  than  outweigh  the  objections. 
Anyhow,  I  was  very  thankful  for  them  during  the  rains 
of  last  January,  and  I  know  the  blessing  they  were  in 
other  towns  where  I  had  passed  the  summer.  The 
monotony  of  a  street,  such  as  the  rue  de  Rivoli  in  Paris, 
is  not  felt  here,  as  the  arches  vary  considerably  both  in 
128 


The  Creen=grocer  Shop 


dotVL  ■^9oo'\^=n93'^0  sAT 


•  ai. 


iii- 


• ,  \ 


rauii) 


LAVAGNA  AND  CHIAVARI 


height  and  in  structure.  Many  of  the  piers  have  Roman 
capitals,  probably  taken  from  the  pre-existing  Roman  city  ; 
some  of  the  arches  are  pointed  and  in  keeping  with  four- 
teenth century  details  still  seen  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
house.  In  a  few  cases  where  a  private  residence  has  a 
high  doorway,  the  arcading  is  as  high  as  halfway  up  the 
first  floor  of  its  neighbour. 

There  are  sufficient  open  spaces  to  prevent  the  sense 
of  stuffiness,  narrow  arcaded  streets  might  give,  and  in  them 
the  churches  and  municipal  buildings  are  seen  to  better 
advantage  ;  but  it  is  not,  however,  to  Chiavari  that  we 
should  come  to  study  these.  An  imposing  casde  crowns 
a  hill  rising  abrupdy  at  the  south  end  of  the  town  ;  and 
fragments  of  the  old  walls  descend  from  it  on  either  side 
and  girdle  the  greater  part  of  the  town. 

For  some  centuries  Chiavari  was  the  eastern  limit  of 
the  Genoese  Republic  ;  the  Entella,  or  Lavagna  as  the 
river  was  then  called,  separated  it  from  the  territory  of  the 
Counts  of  Lavagna.  It  was  owing  to  these  often  un- 
pleasant neighbours  that  Chiavari  was  so  strongly  fortified. 
Happily  for  the  Chiavaresi,  the  Fieschi  became  Genoese 
cidzens  towards  the  second  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  and 
renounced  their  contca  of  Lavagna  soon  after,  receiving 
back  as  fiefs  the  towns  of  Lavagna,  Sestri  Levante  and 
Rivarola.  The  castle  and  walls  were  pardy  destroyed  by 
Frederick  II.  and  have  been  allowed  since  to  fall  into 
their  present  decay. 

There  seems  no  doubt  of  the  pre-existing  Roman  city, 
to  which  Pliny  alludes  as  standing  at  the   mouth   of  the 
9  129 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

Entella.  Nothing  now  remains  of  it  except,  possibly, 
the  capitals  used  in  the  existing  arcades.  The  mouth  of 
the  river  then  formed  a  harbour  reaching  inland  as  far  as 
the  Maddalena  bridge,  which  bridge  replaced  the  medieval 
one  destroyed  by  Frederick  II.,  and  which  in  its  turn  had 
replaced  another  built  by  the  Romans.  The  Aurelian 
Way  after  crossing  the  river  at  that  point  climbs  the  hill 
to  the  village  of  Ri,  then  descends  to  the  rear  of  the  castle, 
winds  along  the  coast  past  Zoagli,  and  at  Rapallo  it  crosses 
the  promontory  of  Portofino  to  continue  its  course  along 
the  Western  Riviera.  Even  the  name  of  the  Roman 
city  seems  lost ;  Pliny  unfortunately  does  not  mention  its 
name  when  he  alludes  to  it.  It  must  have  stood  on  the 
higher  ground  between  Chiavari  and  the  hamlet  of  Ri. 
Its  complete  disappearance  is  hard  to  account  for,  although 
it  was  devastated  in  turn  by  Lombards,  Saracens  and  Nor- 
mans. Doubtless  when  the  medieval  Chiavari  rose 
between  it  and  the  sea,  its  ruins  were  used  as  a  quarry  by 
the  builders.  It  may  of  course  have  only  been  a  small 
Roman  station,  placed  there  to  keep  the  TiguUians  in 
check;  but  we  must  leave  this  to  future  excavators  to 
determine. 

The  village  of  Ri  which  jerkily  crests  the  hill,  a  mile 
inland,  must  have  been  a  place  of  some  importance 
before  the  ninth  century,  by  which  time  the  foundations 
of  Chiavari  were  already  laid.  Its  large  and  prosperous 
neighbour,  which  it  overlooks,  is  said  to  owe  its  name 
from  its  being  considered  the  key  to  Ri.  It  is  translated 
into  Clavarium  in  medieval  times,  and  a  key  figures  on 
130 


LAVAGNA  AND   CHIAVARI 


its  coat  of  arms.  Dante's  spelling  ot  the  name  is 
Chiavm  instead  of  the  present  letter  a  in  the  penultimate 
syllable,  which  is  identical  to  the  present  Italian  word  for 
a  key,  chiave,  plus  the  terminal  r/.  The  Chiavaresi  will 
point  this  out  to  you,  owing  to  other  derivations  having 
been  suggested. 

The  Entella,  now  spanned  by  three  additional  bridges 
between  that  of  the  Maddalena  and  the  sea,  was  a  rush- 
ing torrent  last  January  ;  we  could  clearly  trace  the  course 
of  its  brown  waters  for  some  miles  in  the  blue  of  the 
Mediterranean.  By  this  time  it  is  probably  a  wide  waste 
of  boulders  with  no  more  than  a  trickle  of  water  down 
its  centre. 

Returning  from  Chiavari  one  extra  wet  afternoon,  I 
observed,  amongst  the  crowd  of  people  who  had  taken 
shelter  in  the  cafe,  a  man  who  seemed  a  stranger  to  these 
parts.  He  spoke  to  no  one,  ordered  nothing,  and  gazed 
vacantly  at  the  noisy  guests  assembled  round  a  card  table. 
I  saw  him  again,  later  on,  in  the  restaurant,  where  the 
waiter  was  vainly  trying  to  ascertain  whether  he  should 
bring  him  a  minesti~one  or  pasta  al  sugo.  It  then 
dawned  on  me  that  this  stranger  was  probably  the 
mechanic  from  Huddersfield  for  whom  I  had  been  taken 
by  the  landlady  on  my  arrival.  I  went  to  his  assistance, 
and  shall  not  easily  forget  his  look  of  relief  on  meeting 
someone  whom  he  could  understand,  though  it  was  as 
much  as  I  could  do  to  understand  him  myself,  having 
been  very  little  in  Yorkshire.  When  he  had  partaken 
of  7Jiinestro7te  and  declared  it  to  be  '  not  so  baad,'  we 
9*  i^.i 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

came  to  a  tacit  understanding  that  what  I  might  order  at 
future  meals  Giuseppe  would  carry  ditto  to  him.  This 
saved  the  three  of  us  a  good  deal  of  trouble. 

During  the  course  of  a  few  evenings  my  ear  got 
accustomed  to  his  Yorkshire  accent,  and  1  learned  many 
things  about  cotton-spinning  of  which  I  was  as  ignorant 
as  he  was  of  painting.  When  he  first  told  me  that  his 
trade  was  in  reality  that  of  card-nailing,  I  was  not  sure 
whether  he  was  a  conjuror  or  a  proficient  in  the  three- 
card  trick. 

It  appears  that  the  Lavagnesi  are  poor  hands  at  card- 
nailing,  and,  from  what  I  could  gather,  the  imported 
English  employees  intended  them  to  remain  so. 

His  job  was  to  last  him  six  months,  working  eleven 
hours  a  day  without  a  break  except  on  Sundays  and  on 
one  or  two  of  the  church  festivals.  He  had  been  allowed 
to  sign  on  for  twelve  hours  a  day  with  the  understanding 
he  would  make  up  the  extra  hour  during  the  eleven. 
The  English  firm  who  had  sent  him  out  were  prepared 
to  pay  for  his  wife's  journey,  should  he  wish  to  take  her. 
The  attractions  of  a  winter  in  Huddersfield  were,  how- 
ever, too  great  for  her,  and  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  at  home. 

Englishmen  of  a  certain  class  are  poor  hands  at 
adapting  themselves  to  the  ways  of  continentals,  and  are 
slow  at  acquiring  a  foreign  language.  As  I  expected,  he 
did  not  appear  to  like  the  food  ;  but  I  thought  he  might 
appreciate  the  unlimited  amount  of  wine  supplied  gratis 
with  each  meal.  The  wine  was  excellent,  though  it 
132 


LAVAGNA  AND   CHIAVARI 


produced  no  other  comment  in  the  Yorkshireman  than, 
Wouldn't  a  glass  of  beer  be  just  foine  !  "  The  bad 
weather  increased  his  home-sickness  by  reminding  him 
of  his  native  town.  I  had  tried  to  cheer  him  up  by 
telling  him  that  this  was  exceptional  weather,  and  that 
he  would  have  many  more  fine  days  than  wet,  during 
his  six  months  of  exile  ;  forgetting  for  the  moment  that 
good  weather  or  bad  must  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
those  who  are  shut  up  in  a  mill  the  livelong  day. 

I  often  recalled  this  Yorkshireman  with  his  pale, 
bloodless  cheeks  doing  his  eleven  daily  hours  in  the  un- 
wholesome air  of  a  mill,  while  I  was  in  the  company  of 
countrymen  of  his,  whose  only  concern  was  the  choice 
of  entertainment  wherewith  to  kill  the  time. 

There  were  still  some  weeks  of  jninestrone   and  pasta 
al  sugo,  of  bathless  toilet  and  peasant  company,  to  be  got 
through  before  even  the  most  modest   creature   comforts 
of   an    English    boarding-house    would    be     obtainable. 
There  are  well-appointed  hotels  on  a  number  of  the  coast 
towns  between  Genoa  and  Alassio  ;   but  until  the  latter  is 
reached  these  hotels,  with   few   exceptions,  only  open   in 
the  summer,  when  the  Italians  go  there   for  the  bathing 
season.      The  few  that  do  open,  in  the  hopes  of  attract- 
ing some   winter   guests,  were   in   places   which   did    not 
particularly  attract  me.      I  could  think  of  no  spot  on  the 
western    Riviera    nearer    to    Genoa    than    Nob.      Herr 
Baedeker  dismisses  it  in  two  lines,  and  makes  no  mention 
of  an  inn  of  any  kind.      The  probabilities  were,  however, 
that  I  should  find  some  accommodation    equal   to   that 

133 


AN  ARTIST   IN  THE   RIVIERA 

which  I  was  leaving,  so  for  Noli  I  started,  catching  an  early 
train  due  at  Genoa  by  ten  o'clock.  Should  this  train  be 
fairly  punctual  I  might  catch  another  from  Genoa,  three 
quarters  of  an  hour  later,  and  due  at  Noli  before  six  in 
the  evening. 

The  distance  to  traverse  is  in  all  sixty-three  miles, 
which  these  two  trains,  marked  accelerato  would  enable 
me  to  do  in  eight  hours.  I  was  at  the  Lavagna  station 
half  an  hour  before  the  train  was  due,  thinking  I  had 
allowed  plenty  of  time  to  get  my  luggage  corded  and 
sealed.  There  were  a  lot  of  goods  which  had  to  have 
the  regulation  leaden  seals  affixed  before  the  man  with 
the  appliances  could  attend  to  mine  ;  and  for  once  in  the 
way  the  train  steamed  in  at  its  scheduled  time.  Neither 
bribe  nor  entreaty  would  induce  the  guard  to  take  my 
luggage  till  the  seals  were  affixed.  I  showed  them  that 
my  things  were  safely  locked  ;  but  it  was  no  good.  It 
was  either  a  case  of  going  by  a  later  train  and  missing 
the  connection  at  Genoa,  or  of  leaving  without  my 
luggage,  trusting  that  it  would  be  sent  on  later  in  the  day. 
The  booking  clerk  seemed  a  decent  fellow,  and  I  left  it 
to  him  to  forward  my  luggage.  My  confidence  was  not 
misplaced,  and  some  time  before  midnight  I  was  relieved 
to  find  my  things  at  the  Noli  station.  The  Italians  are 
anxious  to  attract  to  their  side  of  the  frontier  people 
who  winter  in  the  south,  and  yet  they  subject  them  to 
this  annoyance  at  every  station  they  leave. 

The  train  became  more  and  more  packed  as  we  neared 
Genoa.       It  was   a  Monday   morning  and   crowds  were 
134 


LAVAGNA  AND  CHIAVARI 


returning  to  their  business  after  a  week-end  in  the  country. 
The  intervals  between  the  tunnels  is  so  short  that  no  one 
seems  inclined  to  open  a  window,  for  should  one  remain 
open  HI  some  of  the  tunnels  one  might  fare  as  badly  as 
a  butterfly  in  a  collector's  stink-pot.  After  occasional 
ghmpses  of  the  various  places  I  had  lately  visited,  I  was 
landed  half  asphyxiated  in  Genoa  station. 

The  Promise  of  Spring  was  in  the  almond  blossom, 
and  the  advancing  season  led  me  to  hope  that  lengthen- 
ing days  and  longer  spells  of  fine  weather  would  enable 
me  to  get  through  more  work  than  in  the  Riviera  di 
Levante  which  I  was  leaving  behind  me. 


End  of  Part  I 


135 


PART  II 

LA   RIVIERA   DI  PONENTE 


A   Lane  in   Noli 


WoVl   ni   anoJ   K 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    ROAD    FROM    GENOA    TO    NOLI  ;     THE    ALBERGO    PAOLO 
AND  THE  BASILICA  OF  S.   PARAGORIO 

"  Vassi  in  Sanleo,  e  discendesi  in  Noli." 

THE  outskirts  of  Genoa,  through  Sampierdarena, 
are  singularly  unattractive  ;  they  improve  some- 
what after  we  cross  the  mouth  ol  the  Polcevera 
and  reach  Cornigliano.  But  Sestri  Ponente,  which 
adjoins  it,  is  as  ungainly  as  the  eastern  Sestri  is  beautiful. 
Pegli  is  pretty,  though  it  smacks  of  the  suburb,  and  it 
contrasts  with  the  rugged  picturesqueness  of  ship-building 
Pra.  After  the  train  has  crawled  past  Voltri  the  line 
takes  a  more  southerly  direction  ;  and  when  not  in  a 
tunnel  we  look  back  on  an  ever-extending  coast.  From 
Arenzano  the  white  amphitheatre  of  Genoa  seemed 
suspended  from  its  purple  backing  to  float  on  the  deep 
blue  beneath  it. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  which  often  take  one  by 
complete  surprise  on  the  Riviera.  Had  I  spoken  to  a 
newcomer  on  the  previous  one  of  the  purple  mountains 
and  the  deep  blue  sea  he  would  have  thought  it  a  cruel 

139 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

jest.  Everything  the  Mediterranean  can  give  in  the  way 
of  colour  was  now  lavishly  spread  before  us. 

The  next  stop  was  at  Cogoleto,  one  of  the  numerous 
birthplaces  of  Christopher  Columbus.  That  famous 
mariner  has  been  a  Godsend  to  sculptors,  as  there  is 
not  a  birthplace  that  has  not  its  statue  ;  many  other 
places  have  also  statues  ot  him,  which  is,  I  fancy,  the 
first  stage  in  birthplace-making. 

From  Varazze  the  coast  beyond  Portofino  came  into 
view ;  I  thought  I  could  locate  Sestri  Levante,  the 
Cinque  Terre,  and  the  point  of  Portovenere  floating  in  a 
blue  mist  just  a  shade  deeper  than  the  azure  sea. 

It  was  then  past  one  o'clock ;  seven  miles  still 
separated  us  from  Savona.  I  yearned  for  the  sight  of  an 
ugly  railway  restaurant  more  than  for  anything  else,  for 
so  far  there  had  been  no  chance  of  breaking  a  fast  since 
the  cup  of  coffee  and  rusk  at  six  o'clock  that  morning. 
We  got  there  at  last,  and  all  I  can  then  remember  of 
Savona  is  the  excellent  arrosto  di  vitello  I  got  at  the 
restaurant. 

I  had  passed  there  before  ;   but  saw  nothing  to  induce 

a  prolonged  stay.      It  is  a  large  and  prosperous  port,  in 

fact  the  largest  on  the  hundred  miles  of  coast  between 

Genoa    and    Nice.        Its     position,     with     its     harbour 

protected    by    a    massive    fort    towering   above   it,    looks 

imposing  from  the  sea  ;   but  its  factories  and  other  signs 

of  modern    prosperity    have    almost    entirely    spoilt    its 

picturesqueness. 

A  few  traces  of  the   medieval   town  remain,   and   its 
140 


THE  ROAD   FROM   GENOA  TO  NOLI 

name  takes  one  back  to  Roman  times,  during  which  it 
was  celebrated  for  the  manufacture  of  soap,  a  commodity 
still  largely  made  there. 

Let  us  hope  that  the  soap  of  this  city  is  of  better 
quality  than  ot  two  of  the  three  Popes  she  produced. 
The  first  one  was  Francis  della  Rovere,  who  ascended 
the  papal  chair  as  Sixtus  IV.  in  147  i.  He  is  described 
as  only  second  in  wickedness  to  Alexander  VI.  Baptista 
Manteanus,  a  scholar  of  that  period,  in  describing  him 
says  :  Our  churches,  priests,  altars,  sacred  rites,  our 
prayers,  even  heaven  and  our  God,  are  all  purchasable." 
He  was  the  son  of  a  fisherman,  and,  ashamed  of  his 
family  name,  he  assumed  that  of  della  Rovere,  and 
purchased  the  right  to  adopt  the  arms  of  that  family. 
His  blackest  crime  was  his  connivance  in  the  Pazzi 
conspiracy  by  which  Giuliano  dei  Medici  was  done  to 
death  during  the  celebration  of  the  Mass  ;  a  priest 
assisting  in  the  work  which  a  paid  bravo  dared  not 
execute  while  the  sacred  elements  were  being  exposed. 
Owing  to  his  patronage  of  learning  and  the  fine  arts 
many  of  his  villainies  have  been  glossed  over,  and  he 
will  be  chiefly  remembered  as  the  builder  of  the  Sistine 
chapel  and  the  patron  of  the  leading  quattrocento  artists. 

The  second  Savonese  Pope  was  a  nephew  of  Sixtus, 
who  assumed  the  tide  of  Julius  II.  He  was  as 
profligate  and  dissolute  as  his  uncle  ;  but  had  the 
redeeming  quality  of  martial  bravery.  His  history  reads 
more  like  that  of  a  cinquecento  condottiere  than  that 
of  the   Vicar   of  Christ.      Churchmen  were  shocked  at 

141 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

his  ecclesiastical  rule  ;  but  as  a  political  ruler  few  men 
of  his  time  were  his  equal.  Like  his  uncle  he  was  a 
liberal  patron  of  the  arts,  and  it  was  given  to  Raphael  to 
immortalize  his  features. 

The  last  Pope  claimed  by  the  Savonesi  as  one  of 
theirs  was  no  other  than  the  ill-fated  Pius  VII.  He 
was  as  gende  and  as  full  of  Christian  charity  as  the  two 
others  were  the  reverse.  Had  he  not  fallen  on  the  evil 
days  when  Napoleon's  soldiery  were  overrunning  Italy 
he  might  have  gone  down  to  posterity  as  one  of  the 
wisest  rulers  ot  the  papacy  ot  modern  times.  It  is  hard 
to  realize  that  as  short  a  while  back  as  1804  the 
Sovereign  PontiiF  could  be  compelled  to  leave  Rome  and 
journey  to  Paris  to  crown  his  arch-enemy  Emperor. 
Nine  years  later  he  was  forced  to  sign  the  Concordat, 
recognizing  the  annexation  of  the  Papal  states  to  the 
empire. 

After  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  when  his  territories  were 
restored  to  him,  he  proved  himself  to  be  as  good  a  ruler 
of  the  temporal  power  as  he  was  of  the  spiritual. 

After  Savona  I  had  nearly  the  whole  train  to  myself, 
and  could  move  at  will  from  window  to  window  to 
enjoy  the  sea  and  landscape  to  the  right  and  left  of  me. 
The  line  is  less  enclosed  on  its  inland  side  and  we  get 
occasional  peeps  of  distant  mountains  and  village-crested 
hills. 

The  classic  Vado  is  now  little  more  than  a  village  on 
the    slope    of  a    hill,    topped    by    the    church,    and    its 
harbour  guarded  by  an  ancient  fortress.      We  round  the 
142 


THE   ROAD   FROM   GENOA  TO   NOLI 

Capo  di  Vado  (unfortunately  mostly  in  a  tunnel),  catch 
a  passing  glimpse  of  the  island  of  Bergeggi  ;  then  we 
circle  round  the  bay  of  Spotorno,  and  a  bluff 
surmounted  with  a  tower  and  walls  zigzagging  down  its 
sides  are  the  first  fragments  we  see  of  medieval  Noli. 
We  pass  through  one  more  tunnel  and  we  are  in  the 
station. 

So  far  no  fellow  passenger  could  tell  me  whether  this 
place  had  an  hotel.  "  There  is  sure  to  be  some  place 
where  a  bed  and  food  is  obtainable,"  was  all  the 
information  I  could  get.  I  told  the  porter  to  take  my 
hand  luggage  to  the  alhergo,  but  to  my  surprise  he 
answered,  "Which  one?"  Not  being  able  to  tell  him 
this,  we  consulted  the  station  master  ;  he  recommending 
Paolo's,  to  Paolo  we  went. 

The  inn  has  a  more  sounding  title,  and  its  landlord 
has  also  a  surname  ;  but  as  I  never  heard  it  called  by 
any  other  than  by  that  of  our  host's  christian  name  I 
can  only  remember  it  as  Paolo's,  and  should  any  artist 
happen  to  turn  over  these  pages  and  be  tempted  to 
paint  Noli  and  its  delightful  surroundings  I  can 
recommend  him  to  seek  the  hospitality  of  Signor  Paolo 
and  his  obliging  helpmate.  The  inn  is  on  the  sea- 
front  with  only  the  high  road  between  it  and  the  shore  ; 
from  under  its  verandah  he  can  make  studies  of  the 
boats  drawn  up  on  the  sands,  of  fisherfolk  drawing  in 
their  nets  and  of  the  many  picturesque  incidents 
associated  with  a  fishing  village.  He  must  expect  litde 
more  than  the  simple  fare  of  the  middle-class   Italian  ; 

H3 


AN  ARTIST  IN   THE   RIVIERA 

but  as  this  is  well  served,  and  the  air  ot  the  place 
generally  ensures  an  appetite,  he  will  have  little  to 
complain  of. 

Paolo  is  a  retired  mariner,  and  reminded  me 
somewhat  of  Captain  Cuttle.  His  quarter-deck  must 
have  been  a  yard  short  of  his  verandah,  for  in  the 
number  of  times  I  saw  him  walk  backwards  and 
forwards  he  always  stopped  a  yard  short  of  the  last 
supporting  pillar.  A  gaze  at  the  offing  preceded  every 
right-about  turn.  He  had  served  some  time  on  an 
English  ship,  and  could  speak  what  seafaring  men  know 
as  water  English  ;  but  he  got  lost  when  we  got  on  to 
subjects  not  referring  to  the  sea,  and  would  continue  in 
Italian.  His  wife  and  a  maid  ran  the  hotel  as  well  as 
the  grocery  store  occupying  the  first  floor.  What  Paolo 
did  besides  his  quarter-deck  walk  I  could  never 
ascertain  ;  judging  from  the  dimensions  of  his  waistcoat 
it  was  probably  not  of  an  arduous  nature. 

To   bring  the  hotel   more   up    to    date   passages  had 

encroached  on  the  size  of  the  bedrooms,  so  that  I  could 

reach  mine  without  passing  through  those  of  the  other 

guests  ;   but  mine  being  la  stan%a  principale  its  original 

proportions  had  not  been  altered,  and  what  rooms  were 

beyond   it  could  only  be   reached  by  going  through  it. 

I   only  became  aware  of  this  after   I   had  gone  to  bed. 

A  tapping  got  mixed  up  in  a  dream  of  lost  luggage,  and 

a    reception    given    by    the    Syndic    in    my    honour,    in 

which    I    appeared    in    nothing    but    my    pyjamas  ;    the 

tapping  got  louder,  and  Paolo's  voice  made  so  discordant 
144 


THE  ROAD   FROM   GENOA  TO  NOLI 

a  bass  to  the  squeaky  treble  ot  the  Syndic's  wite  that  it 
woke  me  up.  Apologies  tor  disturbing  me  came  from 
the  other  side  of  the  door,  and  an  explanation  that  la 
Signorina  could  not  get  to  her  bedroom  without  passing 
through  mine.  Having  to  figure  before  these  people  in 
pyjamas  seemed  like  a  continuation  ot  my  dream. 
There  was,  however,  nothing  ot  the  British  bread-and- 
butter  miss  about  la  Sig?wrina.  With  a  laugh,  a  ?7i2lle 
gra%ie'"  and  a  huona  iiottc,'"  she  tripped  across  my 
room  and  into  hers.  The  turn  ot  the  kev  in  the  rustv 
lock  seemed  to  express  :  "  He  may  be  a  very  decent  old 
gentleman  ;  but  one  never  can  tell." 

I  soon  got  to  know  those  of  my  fellow-guests  whose 
stay  was  longer  than  the  trying  visits  of  commercial 
travellers.  La  Signorina  introduced  me  to  the  lady 
friends  who  joined  her  here  ;  and  Paolo  furthered  my 
acquaintance  with  the  men.  As  a  happy  family  we 
generally  had  our  meals  together  under  the  verandah. 
The  more  energetic  would  often  leave  the  table  to  assist 
at  the  hauling  in  of  the  sardine  nets,  an  event  of  hourly 
occurrence  on  the  sands  we  overlooked. 

During  the  first  three  days  our  outlook,  although  the 

weather  was  fine,  was  bounded  by  the  Capo  di  Noli  to 

our  right,  and  the  islet  of  Bergeggi,  just  off  the  headland 

beyond  Spotorno,  on  our  left,  with  the  uninterrupted  sea 

in    front.      This    was   satisfying  enough  ;    then   followed 

two  days  of  rain  which  blotted  out  the  coast  to  within  a 

mile  on  each  side,  and  sea  and  skv  were  one  monotonous 

grey.       The    heavy    downpour    had    by    the    next    day 
10  14s 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

cleared  the  atmosphere  ot  every  mist  withm  range  of 
sight,  and  the  outHne  of  the  eastern  coast  spread  across 
nearly  the  whole  ot  our  horizon.  It  was  a  sight  to  take 
one's  breath  away,  and  also  one  to  cause  me  no  little 
surprise,  for  I  had  not  fully  realized  that  since  leaving 
Sestri  Levante  my  course  had  described  nearly  half  a 
circle.  Noli  faces  due  east,  while  the  coast  beyond 
Genoa  curves  more  and  more  to  a  southerly  direction  ; 
thus  the  whole  of  the  Gulf  ot  Genoa  lay  outlined  before 
us  with  the  Carrara  mountains  and  higher  Apennine 
peaks  just  discernible  at  the  extreme  end.  Slow-moving 
cumuli  cast  deep  purple  shadows  on  the  Mediterranean, 
whose  waters  of  an  intense  blue  shot  with  green  had  the 
iridescence  of  a  peacock's  breast. 

Such  days  as  this  cause  little  surprise  later  on  in  the 
season  when  fine  days  are  the  rule  ;  but  winter  was  not 
yet  over  and  wet  days  in  winter  are  not  as  exceptional 
on  the  Riviera  as  the  health-resort  advertiser  wishes  us  to 
believe.  I  have  been  there  during  a  long  spell  of  dry 
weather,  which  hotel-keepers  alTected  to  take  as  a  matter 
of  course  ;  but  the  piteous  complaints  ot  the  peasantry 
and  the  prayers  for  rain  in  the  churches  were  enough 
to  persuade  me  that  the  drought  was  exceptionally 
severe. 

Satisfied  as  I  was  with  my  inn  (the  name  of  which, 
"  I'Albergo  Italia,"  comes  back  to  me  while  I  write), 
I  was  still  more  satisfied  that  Noli  had  surpassed  my 
expectations.  Except  for  new  frontages  to  some  of  the 
houses  facing  the  sea  the  town  has  retained  its  medieval 
146 


Via  deglo  Speddale,  Noli 


cross 


«\oVl   .'^^obbaci'L  o^^a^b  ni"^ 


THE  ROAD   FROM   GENOA  TO   NOLI 

character.  It  has  shrunk  to  httle  more  than  a  fishing 
village,  though  at  one  time  it  was  of  sufficient  importance 
to  induce  Genoa  to  seek  its  alliance.  Sixty-three  of  its 
towers  have  gone,  nine  still  remaining  to  remind  us  of 
its  former  greatness.  It  could  never  have  covered  much 
more  ground  than  at  present,  as  the  houses  still  extend 
to  within  easy  reach  of  its  cincture  of  walls.  Thus 
seventy-two  families  were  of  sufficient  importance  to  be 
allowed  to  raise  a  tower  above  their  abodes.  The  right 
to  do  this  was  at  first  reserved  to  the  nobility  ;  then,  as 
a  means  of  increasing  their  fleet,  any  merchant  who 
equipped  a  galleon  at  his  own  cost  was  accorded  the 
same  privilege.  Space  for  space,  San  Gimignano  delle 
belle  torri  could  never  have  shown  as  many  towers  as 
Noli  when  Dante  looked  down  on  it  from  the  heights 
of  Sanleo.  "  Vassi  in  Sanleo,  e  discendesi  in  Noli  " 
is  often  quoted  as  a  proof  that  the  divine  poet  had  been 
here,  although  that  verse  in  the  "  Purgatorio  "  is  not 
positive  proof  that  he  did  it  himself.  Better  evidence 
than  this  may  exist  of  which  I  am  ignorant. 

The  streets  are  narrower  than  at  San  Gimignano  and 
the  houses  are  tied  with  flying  buttresses  forming  light 
overhead  arches  ;  but  in  many  other  respects  they 
resemble  those  of  the  Tuscan  hill-town.  There  is  litde 
of  interest  in  the  churches,  with  one  noble  exception, 
and  that  is  the  ancient  basilica  of  S.  Paragorio.  It 
is  situated  at  the  west  end  of  the  town  just  outside 
the  walls.  It  dates  from  the  first  half  of  the  ninth 
century,  and  was  built  on  the  ruins  of  an  older  place 
lo*  147 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

of  worship.  The  saint  to  wliom  the  church  is 
dedicated  was  a  native  of  NavaHa,  by  which  name 
Noh  was  known  in  Roman  times.  He  served  in  the 
legions  of  Diocletian  in  Africa  and  in  Corsica  ;  but 
having  embraced  Christianity  he  died  a  martyr  to  his 
faith  in  the  island  which  partly  owing  to  his  prowess  had 
been  added  to  the  Roman  Empire.  When  Christianity 
had  become  the  dominant  taith  in  Italy  the  ashes  of  the 
martyr  were  brought  from  Corsica  and  this  fane  was 
raised  by  the  Nolesi  in  honour  of  their  former  townsman, 
whom  they  made  their  patron  saint.  For  over  three 
centuries  this  was  the  chief  place  of  worship  in  Noli  ; 
but  as  the  population  increased  a  larger  and  more  central 
church  was  needed,  also  one  within  the  protecting  walls 
of  the  town. 

The  present  cathedral  was  then  built  and  the  shrine 
of  S.  Paragorio  was  neglected  and  became  in  course 
of  time  half  buried  in  debris.  From  an  arch^o- 
logical  point  of  view  this  is  most  fortunate,  for  had  it 
continued  as  a  place  of  worship  it  would  doubtless  have 
been  remodelled  in  a  baroque  period  and  little  of  the 
ninth  century  would  now  be  visible. 

In  1889  the  Italian  Government  made  S.  Paragorio 
a  national  monument.  The  buried  half  was  excavated, 
and  no  labour  and  expense  were  spared  to  restore  the 
basilica  to  its  former  state.  On  the  whole,  this  has  been 
well  done,  and,  as  the  church  has  since  been  used  as  a 
place  of  worship  by  the  people  at  this  end  of  the  town, 

it    is    not    the    soulless    structure    of  many    ecclesiastical 

148 


THE   ROAD   FROM   GENOA  TO   NOLI 

buildings,    restored  merely    to    preserve    a    record    ot   the 
past. 

Its  present  incumbent,  Don  Luigi  Descalzi,  canon  of 
Noli  Cathedral,  is  the  man  of  all  others  worthy  to  have 
the  care  of  so  precious  a  monument.  He  is  a  learned 
archsologist  and  historian,  and  has  given  us  the  result  oi 
years  of  research  in  the  Storia  di  Noli  "  lately 
published. 

"  Amor  mi  mosse  che  mi  fa  parlare  "  is  quoted  from 
Dante  on  the  title  page  of  the  book,  and  certainly 
nothing  but  love  could  have  induced  him  to  devote  so 
much  labour  to  give  us  a  comprehensive  history  ot  a 
town  so  litde  visited.  An  abridged  edition  might  supply 
a  demand  hardly  met  by  a  volume  of  over  five  hundred 
pages. 

I,  for  one,  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  its  author  for 
many  pleasant  hours  spent  in  getting  up  the  history  of  a 
town  containing  so  much  to  recall  its  past. 

The  basilica  has  a  high  nave  supported  by  a  double 
row  of  four  arches,  and  is  covered  with  an  open  timber 
roof.  It  is  lighted  by  four  narrow  windows  in  the  clere- 
stories and  the  same  number  in  the  two  low  aisles  ;  it  has 
none  in  the  west  end,  and  from  the  east  we  get  no  other 
light  than  from  a  small  cruciform  window  in  the  gable 
and  one  on  each  side  of  the  apse.  It  is,  therefore, 
exceptionally  dark  even  for  a  church  of  that  period. 
The  choir  is  raised  six  steps  above  the  nave,  and  is  shut 
off  by  a  simple  rood  screen  surmounted  by  a  Byzantine 

crucifix  ;   its  vaulted  ceiling  is  some  feet  lower  than  the 

149 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

root  ot  the  nave,  and  its  floor  is  raised  a  foot,  a  little 
short  of  the  high  altar  ;  the  semi-circular  apse  closes  in 
its  east  end.  The  square  tower  projects  from  the 
terminal  bay  of  the  south  aisle,  and  probably  only  dates 
from  the  period  when  the  bells  were  hung.  A  flight  of 
steps  on  each  side  of  the  one  leading  to  the  choir 
descends  to  the  crypt.  One  of  the  most  striking  features 
is  the  white  stone  pulpit,  or  gospel  ambone,  standing  at 
the  north-east  end  of  the  nave  ;  its  rude  sculpture  and 
the  primitive  piers  which  support  it  add  considerably  to 
the  archaic  appearance  of  the  interior. 

A  conspicuous  arched  and  vaulted  porch  is  in  front  of 
the  doorway,  which  opens  into  the  north  aisle.  This 
covers  a  part  of  the  former  atrium,  where  the  catecumeni, 
or  neophytes,  were  allowed  to  assemble  before  baptism 
admitted  them  to  the  church  within  ;  it  dates  from  the 
fifteenth  century,  by  which  time  the  atrium  had  fallen 
into  complete  ruin.  Two  other  interesting  excrescences 
from  this  side  of  the  church  are  the  vaulted  roofs  of 
tombs  dating  from  the  thirteenth  century. 

Placed  as  the  church  now  is,  in  an  excavated  hollow 
with  the  road  at  a  considerably  higher  level,  and  a  high 
garden  wall  masking  most  of  the  east  end,  there  is  no 
place  from  which  a  satisfactory  drawing  ot  it  can  be 
made  ;  and  delightful  as  is  its  interior,  the  want  ot  light 
makes  work  there  almost  an  impossibility.  But  tor  the 
architect  or  archaeologist  the  basilica  ot  S.  Paragorio  is 
enough  attraction  to  Noli  were  there  no  other  objects  of 
interest. 
150 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  STORY  OF  NOLI 

WITH  the  help  of  Don  Luigi  Descalzi's  "  Storia 
di  Noh  "  I  will  endeavour  to  give,  in  as  tew 
words  as  possible,  the  circumstances  which  led 
to  the  importance  of  the  town  and  those  which  brought 
about  its  dechne. 

Its  earlier  chroniclers  claim  that  it  existed  centuries 
before  Rome  ;  but  modern  research  traces  it  back  to  the 
early  days  of  the  Roman  Republic,  when  various 
Ligurian  tribes  descended  from  the  Apennines  and 
formed  colonies  on  the  coast.  We  trace  the  names  ot 
these  tribes  in  many  ot  the  towns  on  both  the  Rivieras, 
the  Nabolensi  being  the  one  with  which  we  are  now 
concerned. 

The  dithculties  of  exchanging  commodities  with  their 
neighbours,  owing  to  the  steep  hills  which  close  in  this 
bay,  induced  them  to  build  boats,  and  soon  timber, 
skins,  wool,  and  honey  were  bartered  in  the  neighbouring 
settlements  for  wine,  oil,  and  such  things  as  they  could 
not    produce     themselves.        In     course     ot     time     this 

151 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

exchange  of  goods  extended  along  the  whole  Ligurian 
coast,  and  Genoa  owing  to  its  position  and  fine  harbour 
gradually  became  the  central  emporium. 

Commercial  relations  with  the  Carthaginians  then 
followed,  and  though  this  increased  for  a  while  the 
prosperity  of  the  maritime  tribesmen,  it  got  them 
involved  in  the  Punic  wars.  At  one  time  they  were 
punished  by  the  Romans  for  allowing  the  Carthaginian 
galleons  to  harbour  in  their  ports  ;  and  after  a  lengthy 
struggle,  which  ended  in  forced  submission  to  Rome, 
they  were  often  at  the  mercy  of  Hannibal's  legionaries. 
Genoa  suffered  even  more,  as  it  was  taken  and  sacked  by 
Mago,  a  younger  brother  of  the  Carthaginian  general. 

At  the  termination  of  the  second  Punic  war  Rome 
rebuilt  Genoa  and  made  it  a  port  of  far  greater 
importance  than  before.  Genoa  in  turn  restored  Noli, 
which  remained  for  some  time  a  Genoese  colony  ;  other 
tribesmen,  who  had  been  scattered  during  the  wars,  also 
flocked  to  the  renovated  town,  which,  under  the  protec- 
tion of  Genoa,  became  as  flourishing  a  port  as  its 
neighbour  Albingaunum,  the  present  Albenga. 

Ad  Navalia,  as  it  was  known  during  the  Roman 
Republic,  was  used  as  a  naval  arsenal,  both  for  repairing 
and  constructing  Roman  galleons.  Its  people  therefore 
soon  learnt  to  build  larger  ships  for  their  own  use, 
wherewith  they  extended  their  trade  to  every  port  in  the 
Mediterranean. 

They  fortified  their  harbour  with  a  castle  on  Monte 
Orsini,  traces  of  which  are  still  seen  in  the  medieval 
152 


THE  STORY   OF  NOLI 


one  which  replaced  it  ;  and  during  the  third  Punic  war 
the  town  was  already  in  a  position  to  send  a  contingent 
of  twenty  horsemen  and  sixty  foot  soldiers  to  assist  the 
Roman  army.  Having  submitted  to  Rome  sooner 
than  many  of  its  neighbours,  Noli  received  better 
treatment  from  its  Imperial  masters  when  the  whole  ot 
Liguria  became  a  Roman  province. 

Rome,  however,  dealt  leniently  with  most  of  these 
communities,  allowing  them  to  remain  independent 
republics  in  nearly  everything  except  the  name  ;  and 
that  mighty  undertaking,  the  Aurelian  Way,  added 
enormously  to  the  general  prosperity.  In  return  tor 
this  as  well  as  its  protection  Rome  exacted  tribute  and 
the  supply  of  a  certain  number  of  soldiers. 

During  the  reign  of  Diocletian  Christianity  had 
spread  amongst  the  dwellers  of  these  coast  towns,  and 
Christian  as  well  as  pagan  youths  were  sent  to  swell  the 
Roman  legions.  Amongst  the  former  was  an  athletic 
youth  of  noble  parentage  named  Paragorius,  who  with 
his  servants,  Parteus,  Partenoplus  and  Severinus,  enrolled 
themselves  in  the  Theban  legion,  then  composed 
entirely  of  Christians.  They  remained  in  Egypt  untd 
that  legion  was  sent  by  Maximian  to  further  his 
conquests  in  Gaul. 

We  are  told  that  the  prowess  of  this  Christian 
contingent  aroused  the  jealousy  of  the  pagan  soldiery  ; 
and  how,  at  first  with  promises  of  reward  and  then  by 
threats,  Maximian  endeavoured  to  make  them  abjure 
their   faith.       Failing   in    this    he    ordered   every   soldier 

153 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

under  pain  of  death  to  sacrifice  to  the  gods  as  a  thank- 
offering  for  a  victory  which  they  had  gained  ;  but  to 
this  the  Christians  would  not  submit.  The  general 
could  not,  however,  afford  to  lose  the  services  of  so 
great  a  number  ;  he  therefore  ordered  that  one  in  every 
ten  should  be  put  to  death,  the  victims  to  be  drawn  by 
lot.  Again  this  measure  failed  to  achieve  its  object. 
Many  were  then  put  to  torture,  others,  more  fortunate, 
managed  to  escape  and  took  refuge  in  the  Savoy 
mountains,  and  some  were  deported  to  Corsica  to  be 
dealt  with  by  the  Roman  Praetor  of  that  island. 

Amongst  the  latter  were  Paragorius  and  his  three 
servants.  They  were  at  first  well  received  and,  not 
wishing  to  lose  their  services,  they  were  promised 
promotion  and  other  rewards  if  only  they  would  abjure 
their  faith.  We  are  then  told  of  the  terrible  tortures 
these  martyrs  underwent  for  remaining  steadfast  to  their 
Master  and  how  on  the  7th  of  September,  303,  they 
died  for  Him  in  whom  they  had  lived. 

Above  the  high  altar  in  the  basilica  of  S.  Paragorio 
we  still  see  an  archaic  painting  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
and  Child  surrounded  by  the  Nolesi  martyrs  ;  one  is 
represented  on  horseback  and  holding  the  standard  of 
the  Noli  Republic,  and  in  him  we  recognize  the  Roman 
legionary  Paragorius,  since  added  to  the  calendar  of 
saints. 

The    Reverend    Don    Luigi    Descalzi    quotes    many 
authorities  who   maintain   that   the    seeds  of  Christianity 
had  been  sown  on  this  coast  long  before  the  events  just 
154 


THE  STORY   OF  NOLI 


related.  They  say  that  S.  Barnabas  was  not  only  the 
Apostle  of  Albenga,  but  also  of  the  whole  of  Liguria  ; 
that  his  work  was  carried  on  by  S.  Sims,  the  disciple  of 
S.  Peter,  and  by  him  ordained  Bishop  of  Pavia  ;  that 
they  were  succeeded  by  SS.  Nazarius  and  his  disciple 
Celsus,  the  latter  a  Ligurian  patrician.  In  the  second 
century  S.  Calimerus,  Bishop  of  Milan,  frequently 
preached  the  gospel  on  this  coast,  and  made  so  many 
converts  that  he  was  accused  before  the  emperor  of 
having  upset  the  cult  of  the  gods  in  nearly  the  whole 
of  Liguria  ;  "  for  this  he  was  put  to  death  on  the  31st 
of  July,  180.  In  spite  of  this  accusation  the  cult  of 
the  gods  was  predominant  in  Liguria  until  the  reign  of 
Constantine,  and  had  far  from  disappeared  a  century 
and  a  half  later  when  S.  Eugenius,  Bishop  of  Carthage, 
visited  Noli. 

The  progress  Noli  had  made  during  the  first  four 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era  was  checked  in  the  fifth 
by  the  invasions  of  the  Barbarians.  At  first  it  suffered, 
with  the  rest  of  the  coast,  the  depredations  of  Alaric, 
King  of  the  Vandals,  to  be  followed  later  on  by  the 
arrival  of  the  Burgundians,  and  before  they  could 
recover  from  this  Theodoric  and  his  terrible  Ostrogoths 
spread  desolation  along  the  whole  Riviera. 

During  the  dominion  of  Alboin,  King  of  the 
Lombards,  some  of  the  maritime  towns  partially  revived 
— Noli  amongst  them — but  Alboin 's  reign  was  of  too 
short  duration  to  etTect  very  much.  In  641,  when  the 
Lombard  throne    succeeded    to    Rotarius,  the   lot  of  the 

155 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Ligunans  was  worse  than  ever.  This  savage  crossed 
the  Apennines  with  his  armed  hordes  and  laid  waste 
the  entire  coast  from  the  Magra  to  the  Var,  that  is  the 
whole  extent  of  the  two  Rivieras.  "  He  left  our 
forbears,"  says  the  Reverend  Luigi,  "  nothing  but 
their  eyes  to  weep  with." 

Except  some  vestiges  embedded  in  medieval  walls,  or 
a  few  columns  in  the  crypts  of  the  churches,  little 
remains  in  Liguria  to  show  that  it  was  once  a  flourishing 
Roman  province. 

On  the  approach  of  Rotarius  and  his  devastating 
army  many  of  the  Nolesi  took  to  the  sea  and  others 
sought  refuge  in  the  mountains.  On  their  return,  after 
the  invaders  had  passed  on  to  other  towns,  a  smoking 
mass  of  ruins  was  all  they  found  of  their  former 
prosperous  litde  city.  What  we  now  see  of  Noli  are 
the  remains  of  the  third  town  built  by  this  people  since 
the  last  invasion  of  the  Barbarians. 

Naulum  rose  on  the  ruins  of  Navalia  ;   and  with  the 

growth  of  modern  Italian  the  name  of  the  ancient  naval 

arsenal    grew    into    the    present    Noli.      A    comparative 

peace,    lasting    a    century    and     a    half,    enabled     the 

inhabitants  to  build  a  town  of  even  greater  importance 

than    that   which  had  been  destroyed.      Rodoberto,   the 

son  and  successor  of  the  terrible  Rotarius,  seems  to  have 

been   as   kind   a   ruler   as  his  father  was  cruel,   and   he 

helped    the    people    to    reconstruct    their    towns.      The 

Lombard   kings,  who   succeeded  him,  left  the  Nolesi  to 

work  out  their  own  salvation. 
156 


THE  STORY  OF  NOLI 


The  eighth  century  was  hardly  closed  when  fresh 
troubles  began.  Charlemagne,  who  had  married  a 
daughter  of  Deslderius,  the  Lombard  king,  sent  her  back 
to  her  father  because  she  bore  him  no  children,  and 
afterwards  married  the  Suabian  Hildegarde.  To  avenge 
himself  Desiderius  tried  to  induce  the  Pope,  Adrian  L, 
to  crown  the  sons  of  Carloman  kings  of  the  dominions 
usurped  by  their  uncle  Charlemagne  ;  but  on  the  Pope's 
refusal  the  Lombard  king  laid  waste  part  of  the  papal 
territories. 

Charlemagne  was  only  too  pleased  to  help  the  Pope 
in  his  extremity,  and  to  have  an  excuse  tor  extendmg 
his  dominions.  He  crossed  the  Alps  with  two  large 
armies,  overthrew  the  Lombard  kingdom,  and  annexed 
the  territories  of  the  deposed  Desiderius.  Noli  thus 
became  a  part  of  the  Prankish  Empire.  Twenty-five 
years  after  this,  namely  in  800,  Italy  was  once  more 
flooded  with  Charlemagne's  troops,  and  on  Christmas 
day  of  that  year,  as  we  all  know.  Pope  Leo  UL  placed 
the  crown  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  on  the  head  ol 
the  victorious  Frank. 

As  a  part  of  the  resuscitated  Roman  Empire  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Ligurian  coast  enjoyed  some  years  ot 
tranquillity  till  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century,  when 
their  harbours  were  menaced  by  the  Saracen  corsairs. 
When  the  latter  had  secured  a  foothold  at  Nice  the 
imminent  danger  was  met  by  the  erection  of  numerous 
strongholds,  the  ruins  of  which  we  still  see  on  nearly 
every  headland  of  the   Riviera.      The  Roman  casde  on 

157 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

Monte  Orsini  was  rebuilt,  and  the  still  existing  cincture 
ot  walls  was  taken  in  hand  by  the  energetic  Nolesi. 

During  the  course  of  the  next  two  centuries  there 
were  tew  towns  on  the  coast  which  did  not  suffer  the 
cruel  depredations  of  the  Saracens.  Noli  never  relaxed 
in  strengthening  her  defences  against  the  pirates  as  well 
as  against  the  growing  dangers  from  her  immediate 
neighbours.  The  nobles  raised  towers  above  their  houses, 
and  their  example  was  followed  by  every  citizen  who 
equipped  a  galleon  against  the  common  peril.  Thus 
Noli  became  known  by  the  twelfth  century  as  the  city  of 
the  seventy-two  towers. 

Most  of  these  towers  were  still  standing  within  living 
memory,  only  nine  now  remaining  as  a  record  of  the 
patriotism  and  energy  of  the  former  Nolesi.  Ignorance 
and  greed  have,  in  recent  years,  destroyed  more  than  the 
centuries  of  vicissitudes  to  which  this  town  had  been 
subjected. 

While  they  were  preparing  these  defences  against  the 
Saracens  a  romance  in  the  court  of  Otho  I.  led  to  the 
loss  of  the  independence  which  Noli  had  more  or  less 
enjoyed  since  Liguria  became  a  part  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire. 

The  story  as  now  told  is  more  entertaining  than  the 
actual  facts  when  shorn  of  the  details  an  imaginative 
people  have  in  the  course  of  ages  woven  around  it.  It 
is  as  follows: — The  Emperor  Otho  I.  had  a  daughter 
named  Alassia,  renowned  for  her  beauty,  intelligence  and 
grace  of  manner  ;  and  at  his  court  was  a  young  noble- 
158 


Noli 


.  (*. 


tiie 


\\oV. 


■■^^ 


■\  / 


1  -*.  ,_^'  --i»  ak- 


THE  STORY   OF  NOLI 


man  who  possessed  all  the  qualities  likely  to  attract  this 
princess.  This  was  Aleramo,  son  ot  the  Duke  of  Saxony 
and  a  descendant  ot  King  Vetechiudo.  That  these  two 
young  people  should  tall  in  love  with  each  other  seems 
clearly  indicated.  But  Otho  had  other  projects  for  the 
disposal  ot  his  daughter's  hand.  A  midnight  tlight  put 
an  end  to  these,  and  betore  it  was  discovered  the  young 
couple  had  succeeded  in  getting  out  ot  reach  ot  the 
inturiated  parents.  For  months  they  wandered  amongst 
the  Ligurian  mountains,  dressed  as  peasants,  and  living 
on  the  charity  ot  the  poor  inhabitants,  till  they  tound 
a  resting-place  in  the  tamous  castle  of  Pietra  Ardenna, 
which  stands  on  the  lett  bank  ot  the  Tanaro,  a  little 
above  the  town  ot  Garessio.  Aleramo  got  employment 
as  a  charcoal  burner,  while  Alassia  tended  to  his  wants, 
and  in  course  of  time  to  the  care  ot  the  children. 

When  the  emperor  was  an  old  man  he  discovered  the 
whereabouts  ot  his  daughter  ;  and  imperial  papas,  like 
others,  are  apt  in  time  to  condone  the  disobedience  ot  a 
child.  He  therefore  raised  the  territories  ot  Savona  into 
a  marquisate,  and  bestowed  it  on  Aleramo,  who  thus 
became  a  teudal  lord  ot  the  Empire. 

Though  doubting  the  romantic  details  ot  this  story, 
historians  are  agreed  that  Aleramo  was  the  son-in-law  ot 
Otho  I.  and  was  also  the  first  Marquis  of  Savona.  The 
establishment  of  numerous  marquisates  in  Italy  by  the 
German  Emperors  awoke  the  jealousy  ot  most  ot  the 
cities  which  had  gradually  become  independent  republics. 
Genoa  especially  resented   it  in   this  instance,  and  when 

159 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

the  marquisate  was  in  975  extended  to  Finalino,  which 
comprised  NoH  and  its  territory,  the  Nolesi  looked  to 
Genoa  tor  help  to  free  them  from  their  new  masters. 

When  the  people  of  this  coast  were  not  defending 
their  homes  against  the  Saracens  they  were  immersed  in 
the  feuds  between  the  Ghibelline  overlords  and  the 
Guelfic  citizens  of  the  free  towns.  The  descendants  of 
Aleramo  who  ruled  in  Noli  and  Finolino  after  the 
marquisate  was  subdivided  assumed  the  title  of  Del 
Carretto  and  retained  their  hold  on  Noli  till  1090, 
when,  with  the  assistance  of  Genoa,  the  Nolesi  were  able 
to  free  themselves.  They  once  more  became  a  republic 
under  the  protection  of  Genoa,  which  lasted  till  11  54, 
when  the  bad  faith  of  their  ally  brought  them  again 
under  the  yoke  of  a  Del  Carretto. 

Whether  they  were  better  off  after  the  expulsion  of 
the  Del  Carrettos  it  is  hard  to  say.  We  are  not  told 
that  they  were  harsh  masters  ;  but  we  know  that  they 
became  fierce  neighbours  with  whom  for  centuries  the 
Nolesi  had  to  contend.  They  had  them  on  both  their 
borders,  for  the  Del  Carrettos  retained  Finalino  on  their 
west  and  the  marquisate  of  Savona  extended  to  Monte 
Orsini,  the  eastern  extremity  of  their  town. 

Despite  the  loss  of  Noli  the  power  of  these  marquises 
increased,  for  we  hear  of  them  at  Albenga,  and  the  name 
of  their  ancestress  is  still  clearly  indicated  in  Alassio. 

Within  five  years  of  their  dearly-bought  freedom  the 
Nolesi  were  moved  by  the.  preaching  of  Peter  the 
Hermit ;  and  two  years  later  we  hear  of  Noli  galleons 
160 


THE  STORY   OF  NOLI 


accompanying  the  Genoese  fleet  on  its  way  to  revictual 
the  crusaders  encamped  outside  Antioch  ;  and  through 
this  timely  assistance  that  city  was  taken. 

The  fleet  then  sailed  to  Myra,  on  the  coast  of  Lycia, 
to  search  for  the  ashes  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  ;  and 
these  being  found  the  Genoese  with  their  Nolesi  allies  set 
sail  to  carry  their  precious  burden  back  to  Genoa,  where 
it  may  be  now  seen  in  the  chapel  of  St.  John  in  the 
Cathedral  of  S.  Lorenzo. 

Soon  after  this  the  allied  fleets  of  Genoa,  Pisa  and 
Venice  went  to  relieve  the  crusaders,  who  through  the 
opposition  of  the  Greek  Emperor  had  been  cut  ofl  from 
their  supplies. 

The  Pisans  were  defeated  near  Crete,  and  the 
Venetians  fearing  to  lose  their  trade  with  Constantinople 
refrained  from  giving  battle.  It  was  thus  left  to  the 
Genoese  and  their  allies  from  Noli,  Savona  and  Albenga 
to  fight  their  way  through  the  line  of  Greek  ships  so  as 
to  reach  Jaffa  and  succour  the  Christians  who  lay  outside 
Jerusalem.  They  arrived  there  none  too  soon,  for  they 
found  the  armies  of  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  and  of  Raimond 
of  Toulouse  in  the  last  stage  of  despair.  With  fresh 
supplies  of  food  and  water,  as  well  as  material  for  carrying 
on  a  siege,  their  courage  revived,  and  shortly  afterwards 
the  Holy  City  was  taken  by  assault. 

Although  Genoa  was  only  too  pleased  to  help  Noli  to 

free  itself  from  the  Ghibelline  marquis  towards  the  end  of 

the  eleventh  century,  and  to  continue  this  friendship  as 

long    as    the     Nolesi     remained    subordinate    allies,    her 
II  i6i 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

attitude  changed  when  half  a  century  later  her   protege 

threatened  to  become  a  rival.      She  judged,  not  without 

reason,    that    should    Noli    once    more    fall    under    the 

dominion  of  the  Del  Carretto  its  freedom-loving  people 

would  be  a  source  of  weakness  rather  than  of  strength  to 

the  marquis,  and  that  she  had  only  to  abide  her  time  to 

find    an    opportunity    to    annex    the    entire    marquisate. 

She  therefore  gave  Henry  I.,  known  as  il  Guercio,  the 

then  ruling  marquis,  to  understand  that  she  would  close 

one  eye  while  he  made  an  attempt  on  Noli. 

Il  Guercio  carefully  prepared  his  plans.      He  collected 

a    sufficient    force    at    the    foot    of   Monte    Orsini,    and 

awaited   a    favourable  opportunity  to  take   the    castle  by 

surprise.      He  had  lately  returned  with  the  Nolesi  from 

Palestine  where  they  had  fought  in  a  common  cause,  so 

it  may  be  presumed  that  the  townspeople  had  no  reason 

to  suspect  his  immediate  hostility.      Be  this  as  it   may, 

the  garrison  was  taken  by  complete  surprise  when  during 

the  night  of  August,  i  i  54,  il  Guercio  assaulted  the  castle. 

A  simultaneous  attack  on  the  western  side  of  the  town 

also  succeeding,  the  whole  place  fell  into  his  hands  on 

the   following   day.      After   a  vain  resistance  from  those 

who  had  taken  refuge  in  their  towers  the  Nolesi   made 

the  best  terms  they  could  with  the  enemy,  hoping  that 

Genoa  would  help  them  to  regain  their  liberty.      That 

Genoa  proved  to  be  a  false  friend  was  soon  apparent ;  for 

thirty-nine   years  the  little    republic  ceased  to  exist,   and 

the    freedom    the    Nolesi    were    powerless    to    regain    by 

arms,  they  gradually  obtained  by  purchase. 
162 


THE  STORY  OF  NOLI 


The  Del  Carretto  was  too  much  in  need  of  money  to 
crush  a  town  which  promised  to  add  considerably  to  his 
revenues.  Expeditions  to  the  Holy  Land  must  have 
sorely  taxed  his  purse,  and  he  was  wise  enough  to 
encourage  rather  than  kill  the  goose  from  whom  golden 
eggs  might  be  expected.  Thus  we  hear  that  Noli  soon 
prospered  more  than  ever  and  became  a  still  greater 
cause  of  jealousy  to  Genoa.  To  interfere  with  her,  then, 
was  more  than  Genoa  dared  ;  Frederick  Barbarossa's 
troops  were  too  near  her  borders  for  her  to  risk  his 
enmity  by  an  act  of  hostility  to  the  Ghibelline  Del 
Carretto. 

The  treachery  of  the  Genoese  was  in  Dante's  mind 
when  he  wrote  : 

"  Ahi,  Genovesi,  uomini  diversi 
D'  ogni  costume,  e  pien  d'  ogni  magagna  ; 
Perche  non  siete  voi  del  mondo  spersi  ?  " 

One  by  one  the  Nolesi  bought  back  the  rights  and 
privileges  they  had  lost.  11  Guercio's  successor  even 
sold  them  rights  in  the  neighbouring  valleys  which  they 
had  never  possessed,  and  by  the  year  1193  Noli  was 
once  more  a  free  and  independent  republic  ;  and  with 
the  approval  of  Henry  IV.,  who  had  succeeded  his  father 
of  the  red  beard  on  the  throne  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire. 

During  the  following  century   the  history  of  Noli   is 

chiefly  concerned  with   its   quarrels  with  her  neighbour, 

Savona,  who  had  also  freed   itself  from  the   Del  Carretto 

and  become  a  republic.      To  the  detriment  ol  the  latter 

II*  163 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Noli   made  a  tresh    alliance  with    Genoa   and  gradually 
became  absorbed  into  the  Genoese  Republic. 

It  is  as  a  medieval  town  that  our  interest  in  Noli  is 
chiefly  concerned  ;  it  has  little  to  show  that  it  played  an 
important  part  during  the  Renaissance,  while  its 
modern  history  is  that  of  its  decline  to  its  present 
insignificance. 


164 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE  ISLAND  OF  BERGEGGI,   AND  AN  ACCOUNT  OF 

S.   EUGENIO 

IF  we  follow  the  coast  about  five  miles  in  a  north- 
easterly direction,  skirting  the  sea-front  ot  Monte 
Orsini  and  the  sea  edge  of  the  bay  ot  Spotorno, 
we  reach  the  village  of  Bergeggi,  which  iaces  a  small 
islet  separated  from  the  mainland  by  a  narrow  channel. 
Having  passed  this  islet  on  my  way  from  Genoa  in  the 
long  tunnel  beneath  the  headland  1  should  probably 
not  have  seen  or  heard  anything  ot  it  but  for  the 
excellent  "  Story  of  Noli  "  which  Don  Luigi  Descalzi 
has  given  us.  The  pleasantest  way  to  reach  it  is  to 
choose  a  calm  day  and  go  trom  Noli  by  boat. 

The  islet  is  barely  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long  in  any 
direction,  and  is  roughly  shaped  like  a  truncated  pyramid. 
It  is  crowned  by  a  massive  Roman  round  tower  some 
thirty  to  forty  feet  in  diameter  and  twenty-five  feet  in 
height  ;  it  has  a  flat  roof  and  a  parapet  strengthened  with 
pilasters,  and  from  the  centre  of  the  roof  starts  a  square 
medieval    tower    now    in    too    ruinous   a   state    to   gauge 

what    its    height    could    have    been.       This    structure    is 

165 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

enclosed  in  a  cincture  of  walls  forming  in  plan  a  huge 
triangle,  and  although  of  the  same  period  (supposedly  of 
the  latter  end  of  the  Roman  Republic)  the  walls  are  in 
a  bad  state  of  repair.  On  the  south  of  the  enclosure, 
but  on  a  lower  level,  are  the  ruins  of  a  large  early 
medieval  church  and  conventual  buildings,  and  further 
down  the  hill  on  the  north  side  we  find  the  ruins  of  a 
second  church  and  of  what  was  presumably  also  a 
convent. 

As  a  mass  these  ruins  form  a  picturesque  outline 
against  the  sky.  But  their  interest  is  far  greater  than 
that  of  a  mere  subject  for  a  sketch. 

It  has  never  been  clearly  explained,  as  far  as  1  know, 
what  could  have  induced  the  Romans  to  build  such 
massive  defences  on  this  rock  at  a  period  when  they 
had  undisputed  sway  over  the  whole  of  that  coast.  The 
tower  may  have  been  used  as  a  beacon  to  direct  the 
galleons  to  the  port  of  Vado  about  two  miles  beyond  ; 
but  why  choose  that  position  rather  than  the  Capo  di 
Vado,  which  seems  more  clearly  indicated  as  a  site  ? 
What  is  still  more  inexplicable  is  that  no  trace  of  an 
entrance  to  the  tower  is  seen  anywhere,  nor  yet  to  the 
girdle  wall,  unless  there  had  been  one  at  the  angle 
which  has  disappeared.  The  medieval  superstructure 
on  the  tower  is  more  easily  explained  as  forming  one  of 
the  innumerable  lot  that  sprung  up  as  a  defence  from 
the  Saracen  pirates. 

When   we   get   to  the  ruined  churches  and   convents 

we  arrive   at   a    period   of  which   history    tells    us   more. 

1 66 


THE  ISLAND  OF  BERGEGGI 


The  Roman  tower  was  in  all  probability  in  much  the 
same  condition  as  we  now  see  it  when  Eugenius,  the 
Bishop  of  Carthage,  chose  this  rock  as  a  hermitage  in 
which  to  end  his  days.  Sent  in  exile  to  Corsica  by  the 
Vandals  after  they  had  conquered  Northern  Africa,  he 
carried  on  the  work  of  his  Master  in  that  island,  and, 
after  founding  the  nucleus  of  a  Christian  Church,  he 
escaped  to  the  mainland  to  complete  the  work  at  Vado 
and  Noli  which  S.  Barnabas  is  said  to  have  begun. 
His  retirement  and  death  (505)  in  the  islet  of  Bergeggi 
brought  thousands  of  pilgrims  to  this  rock  in  the  course 
of  the  following  seven  centuries  during  which  the  relics 
of  the  saint  lay  here. 

That  this  sterile  rock  should  become  a  bone  of 
contention,  situated  as  it  was  at  the  limits  ot  two  bishop- 
rics, is  easily  imagined  ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  thirteenth 
century  that  it  led  to  actual  war. 

A  shrine  was  soon  erected  over  the  sepulchre  ot  the 

saint,    and   was    considered    a   sufficient    honour    till   the 

close  of  the  tenth  century,  at  which  period  the  islet  was 

included  in  the  diocese  of  Savona.      To  further  honour 

the   saint   and    also    to    safeguard    the    relics,   the    Bishop 

Bernardo    enlarged    the   church    and    built    a    monastery 

adjoining  it,   which    he    endowed   and    presented    to  the 

monks  of  S.  Onorato  established  in  the  island  ot  Hy^res. 

The   monks   took   possession   in    992    and   remained   till 

1252.      They   were    known    as    followers    ot   Lerinus  ot 

the    order    of    St.    Benedict,    and    for    two    and    a    half 

centuries    they    gave    hospitality    to    the     pilgrims    who 

167 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

flocked    to   worship   at    the    shrine    ol:    the    Carthaginian 
Bishop. 

For  some  reason,  not  fully  explained,  this  convent 
was  suppressed  in  i  2  5  2 ,  at  which  time  the  feuds  between 
the  republics  of  Noli  and  Savona  were  at  their  height. 
The  immediate  care  ot  the  saint's  relics  being  neglected, 
the  Nolesi  seized  the  opportunity  to  take  them  and 
bring  them  in  triumph  to  their  church  of  S.  Paragorio. 

An  act  of  such  daring  not  only  lashed  the  Savonesi 
to  a  state  of  fury,  but  caused  the  enmity  of  all  the  towns 
adjacent  to  the  island.  The  Nolesi  were,  however, 
strong  enough  to  guard  their  sacred  treasure  till  its 
possession  was  confirmed  to  them  by  a  papal  bull. 
Savona  received  territorial  compensation  for  its  loss,  and 
peace  was  for  some  time  established  between  the  two 
republics. 

S.  Paragorius  had  hitherto  been  the  sole  patron  saint 
of  Noli,  and  though  he  still  remains  a  patron  of  the 
town,  S.  Eugenio  is  now  its  Protettore  e  Patrojio 
principale. 

The  present  cathedral  was  raised  in  his  honour  ;  but 
it  was  not  till  1602  that  the  marble  area  containing  the 
relics  was  solemnly  conveyed  from  the  older  church  to 
where  we  now  see  it — in  the  Sancta  Sanctorum  of  the 
Duomo  of  S.  Eugenio. 

Robbed  of  its  treasure,  the  islet  of  Bergeggi  attracted 
no  pilgrims,  and  its  church  and  convent  are  now  more 
in  ruin  than  the  Roman  tower  which  dates  a  millennium 

before  their  foundations  were  laid. 

168 


THE  ISLAND   OF  BERGEGGI 

His  festival  is  still  kept  on  the  i3tli  of  July,  when 
the  peasants  descend  from  their  mountain  villages  and 
combine  reverence  for  the  saint  with  their  annual 
shopping. 

Our  ideas  of  a  cathedral  close  are  rudely  shocked  on 
viewing  this  one  from  a  back  window  of  Paolo's  hotel. 
The  apse  reaches  to  within  three  yards  ot  this  peephole, 
and  the  space  between  it  and  some  out-buildings  to  our 
lett  is  utilized  as  a  chicken-run,  while  that  on  the  right 
is  choked  with  packing-cases,  bottles  and  tins.  On 
the  eve  of  a  festival  the  squeals  ot  a  pig  in  its  death- 
struggle  add  a  fresh  note  to  the  jingle  ot  the  bells  in  the 
campanile.  A  hook  and  stains  in  an  angle  where  the 
apse  juts  from  the  choir  clearly  indicate  the  spot  where 
this  meat  offering  is  hung,  little  more  than  the 
thickness  of  the  wall  separating  it  from  the  desiccated 
body  of  S.  Eugenius. 

As  will  be  seen  from  the  above.  Noli  is  well  off  for 
relics  ;  but  besides  the  ashes  of  S.  Paragorius  and  the 
body  of  S.  Eugenius,  Noli  does  not  appear  to  have  many 
other  riches.  Its  people  now  realize  that  the  recent 
vandalism  which  demolished  many  of  its  towers  also 
demolished  a  source  of  revenue,  for  had  it  remained  as 
it  was  until  the  middle  of  last  century  it  would  have 
drawn  visitors  from  all  ends  of  the  Riviera. 

It  is  still  very  interesting,  and  remarkably  picturesque 
if  we  leave  the  sea-frontage  and  penetrate  its  narrow 
streets  ;  but  as  most  visitors  see  no  more  than  its 
furbished-up  frontage,  they  shoot  past  it  in  their  motors, 

169 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

leaving  nothing  behind  but  a  cloud  of  dust.  Even  in 
1887  when  the  earthquake  made  such  havoc  on  this 
coast,  and  many  houses  were  destroyed  or  damaged  in 
Noli,  the  people  had  not  yet  learnt  to  respect  and  care 
for  their  heritage.  Sufficient  money  was  subscribed  to 
rebuild  and  repair  their  property  ;  but  you  should  see 
the  way  in  which  that  money  was  spent.  A  beautiful 
Gothic  front  had  only  to  show  a  crack  to  be  a  sufficient 
excuse  to  smear  it  over  with  stucco  and  to  replace  its 
prettily-arched  windows  with  ready-made  sashes  from 
Sweden.  Hardly-earned  money  is  now  being  spent  to 
try  and  undo  some  of  this  vandalism  of  the  past. 

When  we  consider  the  number  ot  tourists  who  go 
long  excursions  to  visit  towns  not  nearly  as  picturesque 
as  this,  despite  the  acts  ot  vandalism,  it  seems  extra- 
ordinary to  witness  the  hundreds  who  fly  through  it  in 
their  cars  with  only  a  stop  should  their  petrol  have  run 
out.  Heaven  defend  its  ever  becoming  a  resort,  and  its 
towers  turned  into  helvederi  to  cumbrous  hotels  ;  but 
without  such  disastrous  measures  I  teel  sure  that  were  it 
better  known  more  visitors  would  come  to  see  it  from 
the  Riviera  towns  they  now  affect. 

The   sole   industry   at   present   is  fishing  or  preparing 

the    fish    for   exportation,    sardines    being    the    principal 

catch  in  these  waters.      The  season  had  not  commenced 

when    I    was    there  ;   but    it  was  sufficiently  advanced  to 

catch   the   young  fry,  to  the   detriment  of  what  is  their 

chief  source   of  revenue.      When    I    pointed   this  out   to 

some  ot  them  they  quite  agreed  with  me  ;   but  remarked 
170 


THE  ISLAND   OF  BERGEGGI 

that  unless  it  were  forbidden  in  the  whole  Mediterranean 
they  had  to  do  the  same  as  the  others. 

The  centre  ol  the  line  of  nets  has  its  meshes  covered 
with  a  long  piece  of  canvas,  and  when  the  two  ends  are 
drawn  in  this  canvas  is  dragged  on  to  the  shore  and  the 
newly-hatched  sardme  spawn  is  collected  and  carried  off 
to  be  cured.  We  reckoned  that  a  pound  of  this  fry 
would,  if  allowed  to  mature,  represent  the  best  part  of 
a  hundredweight  of  sardines.  The  fish  w^ere  so  minute 
that  in  a  mass  they  resembled  a  sleezy  and  transparent 
jelly.  To  cure  them,  they  are  boiled  and  spread  out 
over  large  sheets  to  dry  in  the  sun,  and  are  eaten  fresh 
with  oil  and  vinegar.  At  first  they  are  considered  a 
delicacv  ;  but  later  on  when  I  saw  them  hawked  in  the 
streets  and  sold  at  a  penny  a  pound  they  became  the 
food  of  the  very  poorest.  I  can't  say  I  found  them  a 
delicacy  myself,  and,  for  the  good  of  all,  1  hope  the 
Government  may  see  fit  to  stop  this  destructive  form  of 
fishing — and  France  and  Spain  also  if  they  have  not 
already  done  so. 

From  March  to  October  the  coral  fishing  begins  by 
the  smacks,  equipped  for  that  purpose,  at  S.  Margherita 
and  Rapallo.  Though  they  dredge  close  to  this  coast, 
the  Nolesi  have  litde  to  do  with  this  more  than 
occasionally  to  provision  the  boats. 

Noli,  whose  ships  were  erstwhile  familiar  in  every  port 

in  the  Mediterranean  and  whose  commerce  aroused  the 

jealousy  of  Genoa,  is  now  dependent  on  the  uncertainties 

of  the  sardine  harvest. 

171 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 


The  struggle  tor  existence  must  be  a  hard  one  ;  but 
a  feeling  of  self-respect  deters  even  the  poorest  from 
parading  their  poverty.  The  narrow  streets  are  kept 
clean  and  beggars  are  fev^,  and  the  tattered  garments 
often  seen  in  large  and  busy  centres  are  seldom  met  with 
here. 

Writers  of  the  past  generation  allude  so  frequently  to 
the  dirt,  smells  and  beggars  in  the  Italian  towns  that  it 
may  take  a  long  while  to  remove  such  a  well-established 
prejudice.  There  is  a  rugged  untidiness  which  contrasts 
with  the  primness  of  an  English  town  ;  but  it  is  an 
untidiness  not  necessarily  associated  with  dirt. 

Had    Dickens    written    his    "  Pictures    from    Italy  " 

t3-day   he    would   doubtless   have   modified   some  of  his 

remarks.      Of  the  Genoese  he  says  :    "  Industry  has  not 

made    them    clean,    tor    their    habitations   are   extremely 

filthy,    and    their    usual    occupation    on    a   fine    Sunday 

morning  is  to  sit  at  their  doors  hunting  in  each  other's 

heads."      This   might   still   apply  to  the  poorer  parts  of 

Naples,  but  it  is  quite  untrue  as  to  the  present  state  of 

Genoa    and    other   North    Italian    towns.      He    seemed 

puzzled    to    reconcile   the   constant    washing    of   clothes 

which  he  observed  with  the  prevalence  of  dirt,  when  he 

says  :       The  peasant  women,  with  naked  feet  and  legs, 

are   so   constantly   washing  clothes,  in  the   public  tanks, 

and   in   every   stream   and   ditch,    that   one   cannot   help 

wondering,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  dirt,  who  wears  them 

when  they  are  clean." 

The  Italians,  as  a   matter  of  fact,  change  their  linen 
172 


THE  ISLAND  OF  BERGEGGI 

more  often  than  the  people  ot  northern  countries,  and  it 
is  not  only  my  experience  but  that  ot  many  others  as 
well,  that  even  in  the  humblest  of  inns  one  can  always 
count  on  having  clean  sheets,  and  where  they  can  afford 
table-cloths  they  are  generally  cleaner  than  in  similar 
places  at  home. 


173 


CHAPTER   XV 

EVENINGS    AT    NOLI 

THE  long  winter  evenings  are  tlie  only  time  liable 
to  hang  heavily  in  these  quiet  towns  with  their 
primitive  hotels  ;  one  soon  tires  of  reading  in  a 
straight-backed  chair  and  by  a  dim  light.  But  here  in 
Noli  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  have  fellow-guests  whose 
conversation  helped  to  pass  the  evenings  very  pleasantly  ; 
and  to  one  in  particular  I  owe  a  great  deal  of  information 
concerning  the  people  of  this  coast.  He  was  a  bank 
manager  from  Milan  who  was  taking  a  fortnight's 
holiday.  He  had  been  several  times  to  London,  where 
he  had  placed  a  son  of  his  in  a  bank,  and  being  a  man 
of  keen  observation  his  views  on  things  English  were 
entertaining. 

I  had  lately  been  reading  the  arguments  put  forward 
in  favour  of  obligatory  military  service  at  home,  one  of 
which  was  the  much-needed  discipline  of  the  youth 
of  our  country.  I  was  therefore  rather  surprised  on 
asking  my  friend  what  were  the  things  which  struck  him 
most  in  London  to  be  unhesitatingly  told  that  he  was 
174 


EVENINGS  AT  NOLI 


more  impressed  with  the  order  and  discipHne  he  observed 
than  with  anything  else.  "  Far  be  it  from  me  to  belitde 
the  qualities  of  my  countrymen,"  he  said,  but  if  there 
is  one  thing  we  lack  it  is  discipline."  I  admitted,  as 
everyone  does,  that  the  traffic  in  our  streets  is  better 
organized  than  in  most  of  the  other  large  capitals.  The 
policeman's  hand  which  can  stop  the  stream  of  vehicles 
in  a  City  street  so  as  to  allow  a  nursemaid  to  cross  with 
her  perambulator  is  the  admiration  of  every  observant 
foreigner  who  visits  London.  This  is,  of  course,  more  to 
the  credit  of  the  organization  than  to  the  individual 
intelligence  of  the  police  constables. 

My  friend  maintained  that  in  intelligence  as  well 
as  civility  our  Bobby  can  give  points  to  most  Continentals 
of  his  calling.  He  declared  that  the  movements  of 
every  foreigner  in  London  were  known,  in  spite  of  their 
not  having  to  fill  in  the  forms  which  every  guest  is 
obliged  to  do  on  putting  up  at  a  Continental  hotel.  As 
an  instance  he  told  me  of  a  fellow-countryman  of  his 
who,  stranded  in  Hampstead,  appealed  to  a  policeman  to 
direct  him  to  his  destination.  As  the  Italian  spoke  no 
English  and  could  not  pronounce  the  name  of  the  place 
he  sought,  the  policeman  could  not  direct  him  without 
assistance  ;  he  thereupon  kept  the  Italian  waiting  some 
ten  minutes  until  he  saw  my  friend's  son  appearing  at 
the  end  of  the  street,  when  by  signs  he  gave  the  other  to 
understand  that  an  interpreter  was  at  hand.  Though 
the  young  man  had  never  noticed  this  policeman  before, 
he  was  surprised  to  find  how  well  his  movements  were 

175 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

known.  The  Bobby  knew  that  he  spoke  sufficient 
English  for  his  purpose,  that  he  was  employed  in  a 
bank  in  the  City,  and  that  he  invariably  arrived  at  West 
Hampstead  station  by  a  train  then  due.  The  Italian, 
who  at  first  resented  being  detained  in  the  street  and  was 
also  very  much  puzzled  as  to  the  reason,  was  enabled  to 
reach  his  destination,  and  has  ever  since  had  a  good 
word  to  say  for  our  London  police. 

The  queue  of  patient  Londoners  at  the  pit  entrance 
to  a  theatre  struck  my  friend  as  an  extraordinary  example 
of  the  unwritten  law  and  order.  That  no  one  tried  to 
secure  a  place  in  front  of  those  who  had  preceded  him 
amazed  him —  A  state  of  things  unthinkable  outside  an 
Italian  theatre." 

Police  and  other  regulations  are  not  lacking  in  Italy, 
and  are  much  more  forced  on  one's  notice  than  at 
home  ;  but  except  in  serious  cases  little  attention  is  paid 
to  their  enforcement.  Our  notices  such  as  '  Trespassers 
will  be  prosecuted,"  though  sometimes  fatuous  in 
England,  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  paint  in  Italy  ;  what 
corresponds  to  our  "  No  admittance  except  on  business," 
requires  a  savage  dog  to  give  it  weight  with  an  Italian. 
To  stop  the  boys  from  climbing  the  telegraph  poles 
uninviting  tenterhooks  do  not  suffice,  for  besides  these  we 
see  on  every  standard  a  skull  and  cross-bones  with  the 
warning  :      "  Pericolo  di  Morte." 

To  discover  a  flaw  in  others  in  those  qualities  we  lack 

is  a  human  weakness  from  which  the  Italian  journalist  is 

not  exempt.      The  law-abiding  British  then  being  a  prey 
176 


EVENINGS  AT  NOLI 


to  the  lawlessness  ol  a  small  section  of  their  womenkind 
must  have  given  pleasure  to  the  newspaper-reading  public, 
tor  Le  Suffragette  Inglese  "  was  a  heading  in  every 
daily  journal.  It  was  painhil  reading  for  an  Englishman, 
although  some  of  the  remedies  suggested  were  amusing. 

Eh  chc  hei  ba?nhini  si  vedo7to  a  Londra  !  "  exclaimed 
my  friend  on  the  conversation  turning  to  our  little  ones. 
This  may  well  surprise  him,  for  the  fine  healthy  children 
one  sees  in  London  surprise  most  observant  Englishmen 
who  live  in  the  country.  It  is  true  that  my  friend's 
observations  were  mostly  confined  to  those  he  saw  in 
Hampstead  and  in  Regent's  Park  ;  but  even  in  the 
crowded  parts  of  London  the  children  certainly  look 
much  healthier  than  one  might  anticipate  from  their 
surroundings. 

The  Italians,  as  well  as  the  other  Latin  races,  might 
take  a  lesson  from  us  in  regard  to  the  bringing  up  of 
their  litde  ones.  It  is  the  commonest  thing  to  see  quite 
young  children  sitting  through  a  long  table  d'hote 
dinner  with  their  parents  and  eating  rich  dishes  which 
we  should  never  dream  of  giving  ours.  They  also  join 
in  the  conversation,  and  are  seldom  put  to  bed  before 
their  elders  retire  themselves.  They  are  more  intelligent 
than  those  of  a  similar  age  at  home  ;  but  it  is  a  precocity 
obtained  at  the  cost  of  health  and  stamina.  At  one 
hotel  a  lad  of  fourteen  monopolized  the  conversation  ; 
his  views  on  politics,  religion,  etc.,  were  listened  to  and 
discussed  as  if  he  had  been  a  senator.  On  his  parents 
regretting  to  me  that  their  son  was  so  delicate  they 
12  177 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

seemed  surprised  when  I  suggested  to  them  that  earlier 
hours  might  be  more  conducive  to  his  heahh  than 
cigarettes  and  politics. 

Young  Italians  ot  the  well-to-do  classes  have  begun  to 
imitate  our  youth  in  athletic  exercises.  Many  who 
formerly  would  have  spent  their  spare  time  sitting  in  the 
cafes  and  quizzing  the  young  women  as  they  passed 
now  join  some  or  other  sporting  club,  and  where  water 
is  suitable  we  may  now  otten  see  an  eight-oar  smardy 
handled.  It  they  succeed  in  keeping  out  the  pro- 
fessional element,  where  a  few  trained  athletes  encourage 
a  fresh  form  of  betting,  this  imitation  of  our  youth  is  all 
to  the  good. 

I  wish  we  had  never  set  them  an  example  in  pigeon 
shooting ;  they  shoot  enough  birds,  in  all  conscience, 
without  this  tresh  encouragement.  Always  a  cruel  sport 
to  my  mind,  it  is  practised  in  Italy  with  some  additional 
cruelties  which  public  opinion  would  not  tolerate  in 
England. 

Il  football  match,"  with  its  gate-money,  and 
excursion  trains  to  bring  thousands  to  watch  a  game  in 
which  they  do  not  participate,  is  unhappily  another 
institution  they  are  beginning  to  copy  from  us. 

Amongst  the  working  classes  there  has  been  no  lack 
of  pastimes  of  a  healthy  nature.  I  have  hardly  seen  a 
village  that  has  not  some  bit  ot  level  road  or  open  space 
where  the  men  can  play  at  bowls.  It  is  pretty  to  watch 
them  on  a  holiday  using  their  rounded  stones  as 
skiltully  as  many  a  practised  hand  on  our  greens  at 
178 


EVENINGS  AT  NOLI 


home.  The  irregularities  of  the  ground  necessitate  all 
sorts  of  calculations  absent  from  a  perfect  level,  and, 
judging  from  the  excitement  of  the  players,  they  seem  to 
get  as  much  enjoyment  out  of  these  rudely- fashioned 
bowls  as  we  do  at  home  on  the  most  expensive  greens. 
The  alleys  not  usually  being  the  property  of  a  wine- 
shop, there  is  little  encouragement  to  drink  ;  we  may 
therefore  put  their  excitement  entirely  down  to  the  fun 
ot  the  game. 

In  every  hotel   unmonopolized  by  tourists  there  is  no 
charge  for  the  wine  supplied  at  the   meals,  and,  except 
on  very  special  occasions,  I  have  never  seen  this  abused. 
I  happened  on  one  of  these  special  occasions  about  this 
time,   and   that    was    the    annual  conscription.      Young 
peasants  came  down   from   the   mountain  villages   to  be 
sent  on  to  Savona  as  recruits  on  the  following  day  ;    it 
being  their  last  night  of  liberty  they  seemed  determined 
to  make  a  night  of  it.      The  serious  operation  of  getting 
outside  ot  a  huge  minestrone  kept  them  quiet  during  the 
first  part  of  their  dinner  ;    but  the  wine  ad  libitum  began 
to  tell   during   the  arrosto,  and  by  the  dessert  each  one 
talked    and    gesticulated    quite    regardless    of  a    hstener. 
An  intelligible  argument   cropped   up  during  the  coffee  : 
some  who  were  on  billiards  intent  were  arguing  as  to  the 
end  of  the   table  from  which   the   first  stroke  should  be 
made,   one    maintaining   that  it  was    the  mountain  end 
and  others  the  sea  end.      The  landlord  being  called  in 
to  decide —     Verso  la  montagna  "  was  the  verdict. 

Towards    the     mountain     or    towards    the    sea    is    a 
12*  179 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

common  answer  when  asking  directions  on  this  coast, 
and  should  our  road  run  parallel  to  either  we  get  the 
pretty  expression  verso  il  levante  or  verso  il  p07te7tte.  Our 
East  and  West  is  more  poetically  rendered  by  the  Italian, 
the  Rising  and  the  Setting. 

The  young  recruits'  lapse  into  intelligibility  was  of 
short  duration,  and  when  argument  gave  place  to  song 
1  thought  it  time  to  retire.  For  hours  I  heard  the 
refrain  of  a  ditty  in  which  a  certain  Gioseffina  had  done 
something  amiss,  till  sleep  made  me  oblivious  of  that 
young  lady  and  her  shortcomings. 

Two  years  of  military  service  make  up  to  some 
extent  for  the  lack  of  physical  exercise  of  many  of  the 
young  men  in  the  Latin  countries,  although  in  the  case 
of  these  rustics  the  service  may  prove  a  comparative  rest 
to  the  hard  life  they  lead  to  exist  in  their  inhospitable 
mountains. 

Life  in  Noli  passed  so  pleasantly  that  I  regretted  the 
exigencies  of  this  book  which  obliged  me  to  move  on. 
Fresh  subjects  seemed  to  crowd  on  me  as  my  stay  came 
to  an  end.  The  little  town  is  still  busy  enough  not  to 
give  that  depression  often  felt  in  places  that  have  sunk 
from  a  state  ot  importance  to  the  last  stages  of 
decay  ;  besides,  the  coming  of  spring  seems  to  awaken  a 
new  life  even  in  the  crumbling  walls  which  form  its 
girdle. 

I  had  packed  my  traps  and  strolled  verso  la  montagna 
to  while  away  a  couple  of  hours  before  leaving,  when  a 
view  of  the  town  from  the  country-side  was  more  than 
1 80 


EVENINGS  AT  NOLI 


any  painter  could  resist.      Another  twenty-four  hours  of 
Noli  was  clearly  indicated  ;    and  in  a  hot  sun  alternating 
with  cooling  showers  I  was  enabled  to  record  something 
which    may    show    the    possibilities    of    this    place    as    a 
sketching-ground. 


i8i 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN  ;    ALBENGA  SEEN  FROM 
ITS  NARROW  STREETS  AND  FROM  ACROSS  THE  PLAIN 

FROM  Noli  to  Oneglia,  a  distance  of  thirty-two 
miles,  we  traverse  the  most  unsophisticated  part 
of  the  whole  of  the  Western  Riviera.  Alassio  is 
the  one  old  town  which  has  been  spoilt  by  the  require- 
ments of  the  foreign  visitors  it  caters  for.  But  Alassio  is 
still  a  very  pleasant  place  to  winter  in  if  one  can 
dispense  with  the  excitements  provided  in  similar  places 
on  the  French  coast.  Its  chief  attraction  in  my  case  is 
its  proximity  to  Albenga.  The  question  now  arose 
whether  it  were  better  to  rough  it  in  Albenga  and  be 
amidst  the  subjects  I  wished  to  paint,  or  to  live  in  luxury 
at  Alassio  and  daily  drive  the  tour  or  five  miles  which 
separate  the  two  towns.  In  an  ordinary  way  I  should 
not  have  hesitated  to  choose  the  former  ;  but  in  this 
instance  I  had  received  letters  warning  me  against 
the  unhealthiness  of  Albenga.  The  saying  "  faccia 
d'  Albenga  "  was  repeated,  as  well  as  instances  given  of 
people  who  had  never  been  well  since  a  sojourn  there. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Italians  I  asked  about  it,  belittled 
182 


Atbenga  from   the  Centa 


F 


DlnaO   acVS   mon\  o^n%d\K 


it,    D«. 


-  ij^} 


N^ 


w"    C' 


'7tM 


p  _ 

v. 

! 

4 

•?■■ 

«<* 


*; 


169' 


|»^f 


■•«^ 


t    I 


HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN 

these  warnings.      1   decided  therefore   to  go  and  see  for 
myself. 

It  was  hard  having  to  pass  the  triple  village  of 
Finalino  without  even  a  look  around,  especially  the 
higher  portion  known  as  Finalborgo  with  its  old  castle 
and  walls  taking  one  back  to  the  days  when  11  Guercio, 
the  most  redoubtable  of  the  Del  Carretto,  made  short 
work  of  the  defences  of  Noli.  Borgo  Verezzi, 
Pietraligure,  Borghetto  S.  Spirito  followed  ;  each  having 
its  special  charm  and  recalling  some  incident  in  the 
stormy  history  of  this  forgotten  part  of  the  Ligurian  coast. 

After  Ceriole  the  mountains  recede  and  we  enter  a 
fertile  plain,  the  delta  of  the  Centa,  which  flows  under  the 
walls  of  Albenga.  The  line  runs  along  the  extreme  edge 
of  the  coast  so  as  not  to  waste  a  yard  more  of  this  precious 
land  than  necessary.  Rich  soil  is  so  scarce  in  Liguria 
that  every  inch  of  this  is  highly  cultivated,  in  violent 
contrast  to  the  rugged  and  sterile  country  we  have  left. 

The  arrival  at  the  station  is  a  shock  to  one's  expecta- 
tions. Happily  it  is  nearly  a  mile  outside  the  walls  of 
the  city,  and  every  form  of  ugliness  that  has  sprung  up 
around  it  does  not  therefore  interfere  with  the  old-world 
dignity  within  the  walled  cincture. 

The  Albergo  di  Commercio  is  in  a  piazza  just  outside 
the  town  ;  and  perhaps  this  is  just  as  well,  ft^r  the  latest 
things  in  drainage  do  not  appear  to  have  troubled  the 
Albenganesi  overmuch.  The  inn  itself,  having  no 
drains,  cannot  be  accused  of  having  bad  ones.  It  is  a 
ramshackle    hostel    in    which    the    old   part  and  the  new 

183 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

additions  have  been  jumbled  together  regardless  of  plan, 
with  the  access  of  one  to  the  other  evidently  treated  as 
an  afterthought.  It  was  only  towards  the  end  of  my 
stay  that  I  could  find,  without  a  guide,  my  way  from  the 
general  living-room  to  where  I  slept.  Access  to  the 
bedrooms  having  been  overlooked  by  the  architect  they 
were  reached  by  means  of  a  widened  cornice  with  an  iron 
rail  to  prevent  one  from  falling  into  the  yard.  The 
only  shelter  in  rainy  weather  was  from  a  similar  gangway 
leading  to  the  rooms  on  the  floor  above.  Only  the 
thinnest  of  guests  could  squeeze  past  each  other  ;  the 
usual  thing  was  for  one  to  back  into  the  first  open  door 
till  the  other  had  moved  on. 

The  view  from  the  window  was  across  the  open 
country  between  the  town  and  the  sea.  The  peach-trees 
were  in  full  bloom  and  the  rich  soil  on  which  they 
stood  was  carpeted  with  luscious  green  crops  before  the 
month  was  a  fortnight  older.  A  few  warm  days  after 
the  heavy  rains,  and  this  black  and  greasy  earth  was 
arrayed  in  all  the  glories  of  spring's  awakening. 

As  if  to  spoil  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  large  windows 

opening   this   way   our  host  had   constructed  a  fowl-run 

along   the  whole  side  of  the  bedroom  annexe.      I   kept 

early   hours  ;    but    not   as  early  as  the  cocks  and  hens. 

Only    one    rooster  reigned  in  this  run  ;   would  that  the 

responsibilities  of  his  vast  hareem  had  silenced  his  voice  ! 

Before  the  first  glimmer  of  light  on  the  eastern  horizon. 

Chanticleer  would  begin  a  conversation  with  the  monarch 

of  a  neighbouring  run,  and  both  were  of  that  aggravating 
184 


HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN 

species  that  must  have  the  last  word.  Bad  as  this  was, 
the  long  days  spent  in  the  open  air  induced  enough  sleep 
to  make  me  oblivious  to  this  noise.  But  worse  than  the 
cock-crowing  followed  when  the  fresh  breezy  weather 
gave  place  to  sultry  days.  With  no  intention  of  making 
a  pun  I  can  only  describe  the  smell  as  a  foul  one  ;  and 
it  that  were  not  enough  to  oblige  the  windows  to  be 
always  closed  the  flies  made  it  imperative. 

There  were  some  thirty  bedrooms  all  facing  the  same 
way  and  nearly  all  occupied,  but  I  seem  to  have  been 
the  only  one  to  feel  this  discomfort.  When  I  mentioned 
it  to  others  they  only  showed  surprise  at  my  wishing  to 
keep  the  windows  open.  I  tried  the  door  instead, 
risking  any  intrusions  ot  my  fellow  boarders  ;  but  some 
stabling  on  that  side  was  a  match  for  the  fowl-run  in  its 
fly-breeding  capabilities. 

To    leave    now    would    have    been    too    inconvenient, 

having  begun  several  drawings  which   I   w^as  anxious  to 

finish,  and    besides    this    there    were    other   things  which 

attracted  me  to  this  inn.     The  people  were  very  obliging 

and  took  pains  to  make  me  as  comfortable  as  their  ideas 

of  comfort  could  soar  ;    the  rooms  were  kept  very  clean, 

and  the  food  was  w'holesome  and  abundant.      And  how^ 

these  people  can  w^ork  when  they  are  put  to  it  !      With 

two    maids   the    landlord    and    his    wife    run    the    whole 

establishment.      On   market  days  they  would  get  eighty 

or  a  hundred  hungry  men  to  feed,  besides  having  people 

in   and   out    for    refreshment  during  the  w4iole  day.      I 

could  hear  them  astir  as  early  as  the  first  notes  of  the 

185 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

rooster  outside  my   window,  and  goodness  knows  when 
they  could  get  to  bed  at  night. 

There  are  two  or  three  other  inns  here,  but  I  judged 
that  I  had  hit  on  the  best  one  as  the  few  officers 
stationed  in  Albenga  used  it  for  their  mess,  and  one  or 
two  married  ones  were  living  here  till  their  quarters  were 
ready  for  them.  Not  until  the  town  has  outlived  its 
reputation  for  unhealthiness  will  it  be  worth  any 
enterprising  hotel-keeper's  while  to  provide  one  tor  the 
use  of  foreigners.  It  is  now  much  more  salubrious  than 
formerly,  as  the  marshy  ground  near  it  has  been 
scientifically  drained,  and  the  fever  the  people  were 
subject  to  is  becoming  a  thing  of  the  past.  1  looked 
out  for  "  La  Faccia  d'  Albenga,"  but  as  far  as  I  could 
see  the  faces  in  Albenga  looked  as  healthy  as  in  the 
other  coast  towns. 

Albenga  is  as  medieval  in  aspect  as  Noli  when 
seen  from  the  outside,  for  its  cincture  of  walls  is  almost 
intact,  but  being  the  central  mart  in  a  thriving  valley  its 
main  streets  have  been  more  altered  to  suit  modern 
requirements.  Let  us,  however,  once  get  out  of  its  two 
chief  thoroughfares  and  it  looks  as  if  time  had  stood 
still  for  half  a  millennium.  It  has  not  many  so-called 
sights  for  a  town  of  its  size  and  antiquity  ;  it  is  the 
town  itself  which  is  the  sight.  Its  narrow  and  winding 
streets,  arched  over  in  some  places,  in  others  showing  an 
irregular  strip  of  sky  between  the  heavily  corniced  roofs, 
its  grim  medieval  towers,  its  walls  and  its  gates — it  is 
these  we  come  to  Albenga  to  see. 
i86 


The  Romanesque  Church  at  Albenga 


1   mc 


o^narf'i     \^^    A':>"tu<\0    ^up?,9nomo?l    ^t\T 


ii^'- 


HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN 

It  is  the  easiest  town  to  lose  oneselt  in  and  then 
suddenly  to  find  oneself  again  near  some  well-known 
landmark.  The  cathedral  is,  as  in  most  places,  the 
dominant  building.  Its  interior  has  not  much  to 
attract  ;  it  is  its  battered  old  shell  which  cannot  fail  to 
interest.  A  great  deal  of  the  old  Lombard  structure  is 
left,  and  it  has  two  fine  fourteenth-century  Gothic 
towers  ;  there  are  Renaissance  excrescences,  and  parts  of 
the  old  husk  are  hid  by  dwelling-houses.  It  is  too  en- 
closed by  other  buddings  to  see  more  than  a  bit  at  a  time. 
The  view  I  give  is  of  the  north-east  angle  ;  I  had  to  go 
there  early,  for  the  sun  was  ofT  the  face  of  the  tower  by 
nine  o'clock,  after  which  the  effect  was  too  monotonous. 

On  the  extreme  right  of  the  drawing,  and  in  sharp 
perspective,  is  an  old  palace  which  occupies  two  sides  of 
the  piazza — the  side  not  visible  being  behind  where  I 
sat — and  which  is  surmounted  by  a  medieval  crenellated 
tower.  Having  one  day  to  seek  shelter  from  the  rain  I 
stood  in  the  palace  doorway  and  whiled  away  my  time 
in  sketching  a  corner  of  the  piazza.  The  owner 
presently  arriving  kindly  opened  the  double  doors  so  as 
to  enable  me  to  get  on  with  my  sketch  more  in  comfort. 
He  seemed  pleased  to  air  the  little  English  he  spoke,  and 
often  joined  me  on  the  following  mornings  while  I  was 
at  work  on  my  cathedral  subject.  He  had  more  the 
appearance  of  an  English  country  squire  than  that  of  an 
Italian  nobleman.  I  asked  his  name  of  one  of  the 
servants,    and    being    told    that    he    was    the    Marchese 

Domenico   I  was  little  the  wiser  ;    but   on   returning  to 

187 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

my  inn  1  let  the  landlord  have  a  look  at  my  drawing, 
when  he  at  once  recognized  that  I  had  taken  it  from  an 
angle  of  the  Palazzo  Del  Carretto.  "  The  full  name  of 
the  owner,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "is  il  Marchese 
Domenico  Del  Carretto  di  Balestrino  " — a  living 
representative  of  the  beautiful  Alassia  and  the  heroic 
Aleramo,  a  direct  descendant,  through  the  lady,  of 
Charlemagne,  and,  through  Aleramo,  from  Saxon  kings 
stretching  back  to  the  dawn  of  history. 

Had  the  stupid  servant  told  me  the  other  names 
besides  Domenico  there  is  no  knowing  what  interesting 
bits  ot  family  history  the  good-natured  marquis  might 
have  told  me.  After  this  I  saw  him  no  more,  for  he 
had  gone  to  look  after  his  estates  still  situated  in  the 
marquisate  which  Otho  I.  had  founded  in  the  tenth 
century.  I  felt  a  certain  satisfaction  that  an  illustrious 
descent  of  such  antiquity  should  produce  one  who 
might  so  easily  have  been  mistaken  for  an  English 
country  gentleman. 

There  are  three  sculptured  lions  in  this  piazza  after 
which  it  is  called,  and  one  of  which  is  seen  on  the  left  of 
my  illustration.  These,  the  Marchese  told  me,  stood  at 
the  base  of  a  Roman  column  and  were  unearthed  in  this 
square  when  some  additions  to  the  church  were  made. 

In  the  centre  of  a  court  adjoining  this  piazza  stands 

an  octangular  ninth-century  baptistery  ;  its  base  is  several 

feet  below  the  level  of  the  pavement  and  of  the  cathedral 

to  which   it  belongs.      It   is  supported   by  eight  granite 

columns  with  Corinthian   capitals,  green  with  the  damp 
i88 


HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN 

of  ages.  There  are  the  remains  oi  some  paintings  on 
the  holy-water  stoup  and  early  Christian  mosaics  on  the 
vault.  It  is  the  sight  "  which  every  tourist  is  brought 
to  see.  Very  interesting  from  an  archaological  point 
ot  view,  but  pictorially  it  looks  rather  ridiculous  rising  as 
it  does  from  a  kind  ot  railed  bear's-pit  surrounding  it. 

What  may  mostly  interest  the  antiquary  is  the  Ponte 
Lunga,  a  low-arched  Roman  viaduct  which  approaches 
the  walls  of  the  town  from  its  eastern  side.  Whether 
this  crossed  an  actual  inlet  ot  the  sea  or  only  a  stretch 
ot  marshy  land  I  was  unable  to  find  out.  From  the 
spring  of  the  arches  it  must  have  been  double  its  present 
height,  and  built  as  the  Romans  understood  building  it 
was  more  than  the  barbarian  hordes  could  demolish  in 
their  work  of  destruction.  The  parts  now  missing 
probably  served  as  a  quarry  when  the  medieval  city  rose 
from  the  ruins  of  ancient  Albingaunum. 

This  viaduct  and  a  stray  capitol  or  a  broken 
sarcophagus  seen  here  and  there  are  not  sufficient  to 
interest  us  in  Albenga  as  being  a  Roman  city  ;  it  is  the 
medieval  one  on  its  site  which  awakens  our  sympathies. 
Would  that  there  were  a  Don  Luigi  Descalzi  to  unravel 
its  mysteries  and  tell  of  the  stirring  events  its  remaining 
towers  have  witnessed.  Both  the  historian  and  the 
archaeologist  seem  to  have  left  this  place  severely  alone. 
Not  even  a  pamphlet  giving  its  story  could  I  discover  in 
the  place  itself. 

Everyone  can  tell  something  of  the  French  occupation 

during  the   Napoleonic   wars.      Albenga   was   the  centre 

189 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

of  military  operations  in  1794,  and  two  years  later 
Napoleon  made  it  his  headquarters.  In  1797  it 
became  a  part  ot  the  short-lived  Ligurian  Republic. 

With  a  change  in  some  of  the  leading  actors  the 
tragedy  of  Albenga's  medieval  history  is  much  the  same 
as  that  of  Noli  or  Rapallo,  or  of  most  of  the  Italian 
towns.  In  his  "  Age  ot  the  Despots  "  John  Addington 
Symonds  sums  up  a  state  of  things  which  may  be 
equally  applied  to  each  one  :  It  would  seem  as  though 
the  most  ancient  furies  of  antagonistic  races,  enchained 
and  suspended  for  centuries  by  the  magic  ot  Rome,  had 
been  unloosed  ;  as  though  the  indigenous  populations, 
tamed  by  antique  sculpture,  were  reverting  to  their 
primal  instincts.  Nor  is  this  the  end  of  the  perplexity. 
Not  only  are  the  cities  at  war  with  each  other,  but  they 
are  plunged  in  ceaseless  strife  within  the  circuits  of  their 
ramparts.  The  people  with  the  nobles,  the  burghs  with 
the  castles,  the  plebeians  with  the  burgher  aristocracy,  the 
men  of  commerce  with  the  men  ot  arms  and  ancient 
lineage,  Guelfs  and  Ghibellines,  clash  together  in 
persistent  fury.  One  half  of  the  city  expels  the  other 
halt.  The  exiles  roam  abroad,  cement  allies,  and  return 
to  extirpate  their  conquerors.  Fresh  proscriptions  and 
new  expulsions  foDow.  Again  alliances  are  made  and 
revolutions  are  accomplished.  All  the  ancient  feuds  of 
the  town  are  crossed,  recrossed  and  tangled  in  a  web 
ot  madness  that  defies  analysis." 

These  lines  give  so  accurate  an  impression  of  the 
story  of  every  walled  city  in  Italy  that  we  may  as  well 
190 


HUMOURS  OF  THE  COUNTRY  INN 

not  try  to  untangle  the  web  ot  madness  of  Albenga  in 
particular.  Some  romantic  incident  still  recounted  by 
the  people,  or  the  story  ot  some  relic  still  preserved  in 
the  records  ot  the  church,  may,  it  it  be  peculiar  to  the 
district  visited,  be  ot  interest  to  those  who  dip  into  a 
book  ot  this  kind. 

Madame  de  Genlis  resided  tor  some  years  at 
Lusignano,  a  village  tour  miles  north  ot  Albenga,  and 
laid  the  scenes  of  some  ot  her  novels  here.  An  added 
interest  is  given  to  the  tower  now  rising  above  the 
Communal  Palace,  as  having  been  the  prison  in  which 
the  Duke  of  Ceritalco  immuned  his  Duchess  tor  nine 
long  years.  But  how  tar  this  is  tounded  on  fact  we  are 
not  given  to  know. 

What  exciting  events  may   not  have  occurred  in  and 

around    the     great     Malespina     tower  !      And     what     a 

medieval  ring  there  is  in  the  name  Torre  dei  Guelfi,  the 

next  highest   ot  the  existing  ones  !      The  grandest  trom 

its  proportions  and  fine  state  of  preservation  is  the  Torre 

del  Carretto  di  Balestrino,  although  it  ranks  about  tourth 

in    height.      The    present    Marchese    ot   that   name    told 

me    that    there    were    tormerly    over    seventy    towers    in 

Albenga  ;    but    most    of    them    had    disappeared    betore 

1628,  judging  from  a  fresco  of  that  date  lately  discovered 

beneath    the    whitewash    in    the   church    of    S.     Maria 

Intontibus,   the   next  largest  church   to  the  Duomo.      I 

could    there    only   count   sixteen,    though    doubtless    the 

bases  ot  many  others  were  then  hidden  by  the  dwellings 

built  around  them. 

191 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

The  church  with  this  fine-sounding  name  stands 
within  a  hundred  yards  from  the  cathedraL  It  has  a 
fine  fourteenth-century  pointed  doorway  ;  but  it  has 
otherwise  been  so  ruthlessly  altered  during  the  baroque 
period  that  little  remains  to  detain  us  there. 

Albenga  is  as  delightful  when  seen  from  a  distance 
with  its  still  existing  towers  rising  above  its  walls  and 
gates  as  it  is  in  its  narrow  and  tortuous  streets.  It  was 
even  more  so  at  this  time  of  the  year  when  the  snow  still 
capped  its  mountainous  background,  and  when  the  plain 
it  dominates  was  arrayed  in  all  the  glories  of  Spring. 

Regardless  of  advice  given  me  some  years  since  by 
the  late  Herbert  Marshall — not  to  try  and  paint  the 
spring  but  to  write  about  it — I,  nevertheless,  made  some 
attempts  at  spring's  glorious  array  as  a  setting  for  the 
stern-walled  and  towered  Albenga — attempts,  alas,  too 
painful  to  write  about  !  I  felt  like  a  cook  who  had  made 
a  horrible  pudding  by  stuffing  too  many  plums  into  it. 

Many  a  time  did  I  watch  the  declining  sun  burn 
crimson  the  cluster  of  towers,  and  flush  the  pale  gold 
buildings  beneath,  while  the  pink  blossoms  turned  to 
violet  with  the  lengthening  of  the  shadows  across  the 
plain.  But  if  I  found  it  impossible  to  do  justice  to  this 
with  my  pallet  how  can  I  hope  to  do  this  with  my  pen  ? 

A  fragment  of  the  town  with  some  of  its  towers  and 

the    Centa   flowing   beneath    its   walls   was   within   easier 

reach  of  my  brush.      And,  if  less  of  a  poet's  dream  than 

when   seen    from   across   the    blossoming   plain,    it  lends 

itself  more  readily  to  pictorial  treatment. 
192 


Vicolo  del  Ponte.  Villa  NuoVa  di  Albenga 


:as 


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D^n9d\K  \h  o^ouW  oWi^  ,9lno*?  \sb  o\oor^  SO  J  lie 

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the 
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lends 


CHAPTER  XVII 

VILLANOVA   D'    ALBENGA,    THE   GUESTS   AT  THE   ALBERGO    DI 
COMMERCIO,   AND  THE  JOURNEY  TO  DIANO  MARINA 

VILLANOVA  D'  ALBENGA  lies  six  miles  inland 
from  the  mother  town,  and  unless  one  knew 
something  of  the  history  of  the  latter  one  might 
easily  mistake  it  for  the  younger  of  the  two.  Albenga 
still  retains  much  of  the  dignity  and  romance  ol  a 
medieval  city  ;  but  at  Villanova  there  is  litde  besides  its 
crumbling  walls  to  remind  us  that  time  has  not  stood 
still  since  the  middle  ages. 

Were  this  litde  town  in  the  centre  of  the  mountainous 
regions  beyond  it,  one  might  account  tor  its  apparent 
poverty  ;  but  it  stands  at  the  head  of  a  fertile  delta,  and 
on  the  main  road  which  follows  the  river  up  to  its 
source  in  the  Ligurian  Alps.  That  it  once  had  some- 
thing worth  protecting  is  evident  from  its  cincture  of 
walls  ;  at  present  nothing  but  the  barest  necessities  to 
keep  the  body  and  soul  together  are  anywhere  to  be 
found.  Vacant  rooms  and  whole  houses  are  here  in 
plenty  ;  but  not  a  bed  to  accommodate  a  stranger  is  to 
be  had.  The  town  is  so  aggravatingly  picturesque  that 
13  ^93 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

I  was  prepared  to  sleep  on  anything  so  as  to  be  able  to 
devote  some  days  to  painting  in  its  street.  The  neglected 
state  of  the  road  necessitated  an  bour-and-a-half  drive  to 
reach  it,  and  a  three-hours'  daily  jolting  in  the  crazy  old 
diligence  tightly  packed  between  the  peasants  and 
their  produce  was  more  than  my  enthusiasm  for  its 
picturesqueness  could  stand. 

The  osteria,  where  some  bread  and  cheese  is 
obtainable,  might  have  been  the  crypt  ot  a  medieval 
church,  from  its  vaulted  root  and  the  thickness  of  its 
walls.  To  supplement  my  lunch  the  landlady  left  two 
babies  in  the  charge  ot  another  slightly  older  to  hunt 
the  neighbouring  fowl  roosts  for  some  eggs.  Whether 
she  took  me  for  a  glutton  or  a  millionaire  I  can't  say  ; 
but  her  surprise  was  great  when  I  said  she  might  fry 
three.  From  the  way  she  dusted  the  bench,  spread  a 
clean  apron  on  the  table,  and  shooed  ofT  an  inquisitive 
hen,  I  was  evidently  an  exceptional  guest  and  one  to 
whom  sixpence  might  be  charged  with  impunity. 

Villanova  is  not  a  discovery  of  mine,  for  she  told  me 
that  other  sig7iori  had  driven  over  from  Alassio  to  paint 
the  old  well  in  front  of  her  house.  Why  people  who 
can  afford  the  luxury  of  a  carriage  should  do  this  work 
was  a  mystery  she  could  not  solve.  It  may  also  have 
puzzled  her  that  a  well  should  have  such  an  attraction 
to  people  who  sternly  refused  to  drink  its  water. 

I    had    plenty   of    time    to   hear    all    she    had    to    say 

about  ViUanova,  as  the  rain  kept  me  some  hours  in  her 

osteria.      I   heard  the  oft  told  tale  of  how  most  of  the 
194 


VILLANOVA  D'   ALBENGA 


men  had  either  emigrated  or  had  gone  to  the  large 
cities  to  find  some  work,  and  how  the  Httle  work  to  do 
here  was  mainly  left  to  the  women  and  children. 
Albenga  being  nearer  the  coast,  and  at  present  on  the 
railway,  all  the  trade  of  the  plain  is  monopolized  by  it. 

Most  of  the  people  live  in  the  upper  stories  of  the 
houses,  which  are  reached  by  a  flight  of  external  stone 
stairs,  the  ground  floor  being  given  up  to  the  cattle  or 
for  the  storage  of  farm  produce.  A  large  gateway  gives 
access  to  the  town,  and  one  or  two  postern  gates  lead  to 
the  river,  in  a  bend  of  which  Villanova  stands.  The 
walls  are  pierced  in  other  places,  but  it  is  hard  to  say 
whether  these  were  originally  doorways  or  merely  holes 
broken  through  to  admit  the  catde. 

The  church  is  a  poor  one  and  I  presume  from  the 
patched  cassock  of  the  priest  that  the  living  is  poorer  still. 

The  little  town  of  Garlenda,  a  few  miles  further  up 
the  valley,  is  less  interesting  ;  but  from  causes  hard  to 
account  for  the  people  appear  more  prosperous.  Its 
church  contains  a  picture  by  Domenichino,  representing 
the  Virgin  and  Child  and  two  saints,  which  was  about 
to  be  sold  a  few  years  ago  for  twenty- thousand  francs  so 
as  to  enable  the  church  to  be  repaired  and  an  organ 
added — a  badly  needed  want  in  the  first  case,  if  not  in 
the  second.  The  whole  parish,  however,  rather  than 
part  with  the  picture,  rose  eii  masse  and  prevented  its 
sale.  They  have  besides  this  a  Poussin  representing  the 
Martyrdom  of  Erasmus. 

Compared  with  other  provinces  in   Italy  works  of  art 
13*  195 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

are  rare  in  the   towns   of  Liguria,  and  quite  exceptional 
in  villages  as  remote  as  this  one. 

The  drive  back  to  Albenga  is  slow  and  uncomfortable, 
but  it  had  its  compensations  in  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery.  It  was  an  exceptional  year  tor  blossom,  the 
peach-trees  were  almost  a  solid  mass  of  pink,  and  never 
have  I  seen  pear-trees  more  laden  with  their  greenish - 
white  bloom.  Four  streams  add  their  waters  to  the 
Centa  a  little  below  Villanova  ;  and,  from  the  road  at 
the  south  extremity  of  the  delta,  we  look  across  the  well- 
watered  plain  to  the  beautilully  oudined  mountains  on 
our  extreme  left.  We  pass  Lusignano  spread  over  a  hill 
on  our  right,  and  we  cannot  wonder  why  Madame  de 
Genlis  chose  a  site  there  for  her  villa.  The  best  part  of 
the  drive  is,  nevertheless,  when  we  approach  Albenga, 
and  see  its  walls  and  towers  rise  from  the  plain. 

Showery  weather  prevented  my  completing  many  a 
sketch  ;  I  was  therefore  an  inmate  ol  the  Albergo  di 
Commercio  longer  than  I  wished.  The  Confort 
Moderne  "  in  large  letters  on  the  facade  was  either  a  bit 
ot  misplaced  humour  or  evidence  that  our  worthy 
landlord's  ideas  of  modern  comfort  were  limited.  If  the 
wind  blew  open  my  bedroom  door  the  next  shower 
would  make  a  pool  on  my  floor  ;  and  without  an 
umbrella  it  was  not  possible  to  reach  my  room  in  the 
dry.  Having  more  Villanova  mud  on  my  boots  than  I 
cared  for  I  tried  the  experiment  of  putting  them  outside 
my  door  at   night.      They  were   there   in   the   morning, 

and  no  shower  having  washed  off  the  mud  they  were  in 

196 


VILLANOVA  D'   ALBENGA 


the  same  state  ot  uncleanliness.  The  hint  that  I 
wanted  them  cleaned  was  lost  on  the  maids,  who 
thought  they  had  been  put  out  to  air  and  also  to  show 
my  confidence  in  the  honesty  of  the  establishment. 
"  Confort  Moderne  "  did  evidently  not  include  boot- 
blacking  ;  I  wondered  how  it  was  that  my  neighbour,  a 
fat  cavalry  major,  always  came  down  with  a  shine  on 
his  boots.  I  tracked  him  one  morning  down  a  passage 
and  up  a  flight  ot  stairs  leading  nowhere  in  particular, 
and  found  him  handling  a  blacking-brush  as  one  to  the 
manner  born.  After  that  we  were  competitors  in 
putting  on  a  polish. 

A  bath  was  also  not  included  in  the  Confort 
Moderne,"  nor  could  I  discover  any  place  in  Albenga 
where  such  a  thing  was  obtainable.  It  seems  odd  that 
people  who  are  so  constantly  washing  their  linen  should 
have  so  little  convenience  for  washing  their  bodies. 

The  landlady  was  a  hard-working  intelligent  little 
woman,  and  was  aware  that  tourists  avoided  her  hotel 
or  cleared  out  the  next  dav  if  bv  stress  of  circumstances 
they  put  up  for  a  night.  Full  as  the  inn  generally  was, 
she  could  only  make  two  ends  meet  owing  to  the  low 
charges  her  clientele  could  afford  to  pay.  "  What  am 
I  to  do  to  make  it  more  attractive  to  the  tourist  }  "  she 
asked.  To  pull  the  place  down  and  build  another  was 
the  only  remedy,  and  one  beyond  their  means.  I 
could  ncn  advise  her  to  do  that,  tor  were  there  even  a 
possible  hotel  for  winter  visitors  to  the  Riviera  she 
would   have   to  wait  till  the   evil  reputation   of  Albenga 

197 


AN  ARTIST   IN  THE  RIVIERA 

had  died  down  and,  at  its  best,  it  could  never  claim  to 
be  a  health  resort,  Alassio  being  only  five  miles  off, 
more  sheltered  and  on  the  sea- front,  would  catch  all  the 
clients  our  landlady  might  hope  to  draw  in  her  net. 
Armed  with  a  Kodak,  a  hall-day's  excursion  to 
Albenga  satisfies  the  artistic  cravings  ot  most  people  ; 
and  this  can  be  easily  done  from  Alassio. 

With  this  plain  living  there  was  also  some  high 
thinking.  The  landlord  had  the  tact  to  place  me  at  a 
side  table  alongside  a  professor  at  the  local  university. 
He  was  quite  a  young  man,  who,  in  spite  of  long  hours 
with  his  pupils,  nevertheless  found  time  to  do  a  lot  of 
reading.  Besides  being  well-read  in  the  literature  of  his 
own  country  it  was  astonishing  how  well  he  was  up  in 
that  of  mine  as  well  as  in  that  of  Germany.  He  spoke 
no  English,  and  had  read  most  ot  our  classics  in 
translation  ;  but  not  satisfied  with  this  he  was  studying 
his  favourites  in  the  original  with  the  help  of  a 
dictionary.  Sometimes  he  would  venture  on  a 
quotation,  and  having  no  idea  of  our  accent  it  was 
difficult  to  keep  my  countenance  when  he  quoted 
familiar  lines  ;  but  when  these  were  new  to  me,  as  was 
only  too  often  the  case,  it  might  have  been  Sanscrit  as 
well  as  any  other  language. 

Like  my  friend  the  Piemontese  at  Lavagna  he  had  a 
contempt  for  the  Liguresi.  He  thought  them  a  rude,  un- 
cultured people,  though  considering  the  class  to  which  most 
of  the  other  guests  belonged  he  was  too  severe  on  them. 

Born    and    bred     in    Turin    he    considered    himself 
198 


VILLANOVA  D'   ALBENGA 


Piemontese,  although  his  tather  was  a  Spaniard  and  his 
mother  Greek.  His  hopes  and  ambition  were  to  be 
transferred    to    Rome.  Think    what   a  joy    it    would 

be  to  hear  my  language  spoken  in  the  full  rich  tones  of 
the  Romans  instead  ot  the  horrible  jargon  which  flays 
one's  ears  in  Liguria."  He  longed  for  this  as  much  as 
1  longed  for  a  bath. 

In  Italy  the  enunciation  of  the  language  is  a  matter 
of  race,  and  not  so  much  a  matter  of  class,  as  with  us. 
Their  ideal  is  expressed  m  the  saying  :  La  lingua 
toscana  in  bocca  romana."  Dante  having  made  the 
Tuscan  dialect  the  classical  Italian  it  has  become  the 
lingua  franca  of  the  educated  ;  but  in  their  homes  and 
amongst  intimates  they  soon  drop  into  the  dialect  of 
their  district.  The  educated  Roman  adds  to  the  Tuscan 
he  speaks  the  rich  intonation  lacking  in  Tuscany. 

I  have  often  heard  the  shortcomings  of  a  man  pardy 
excused  on  account  of  his  fine  pronunciation,  in  the 
same  way  as  we  may  hear  a  worthy  man  condemned  in 
England  owing  to  his  difhculties  with  the  aspirates.  In 
the  first  case  the  keener  esthetic  sense  of  the  Italian  is 
appealed  to,  while  in  the  second  the  class  prejudice  of 
the  Englishman  is  shocked. 

The  loss  ot  the  Signor  Professor's  company  made  me 
regret  leaving  Albenga  as  much  as  anything  else.  The 
town  offers  as  much  to  a  painter  as  Noli,  and  possibly 
more  ;  but  in  mv  case  the  conditions  had  been  more 
favourable  in  the  latter,  and  had  enabled  me  to  make  a 
better  use  of  my  time. 

199 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

A  tunnel  on  the  westward  journey  soon  blacks  out 
the  whole  valley  of  the  Centa,  and  Albenga  takes  its 
place  amongst  the  many  walled  Italian  cities  stored  in 
one's  memory. 

We  get  a  good  view  between  this  and  the  next  tunnel 
of  the  castle-crowned  islet  of  Gallinaria,  while  on  our 
right  we  are  shut  in  by  the  headland  we  skirt.  One  or 
two  more  tunnels  then  follow,  and  we  pass  the  back  of 
Alassio.  The  town  looks  everything  the  advertiser  of 
winter  resorts  could  wish  ;  but  it  did  not  tempt  me  to 
get  off  the  train.  Its  setting  is  in  striking  contrast 
to  that  of  Albenga,  the  one  place  on  the  whole  Riviera 
which  has  the  characteristics  ot  a  city  of  the  plains. 
Alassio  is  at  the  foot  of  two  mountains  which  shelter  it 
from  the  north-east  and  the  west.  There  is  a  luxuriance 
of  semi-tropical  shrubs  which  would  perish  in  its  more 
exposed  neighbour ;  we  are,  in  short,  once  more  in 
surroundings  associated  with  the  Riviera. 

We  next  pass  the  fishing  village  of  Laiguelia,  and 
enter  a  long  tunnel  traversing  the  Capo  Mele,  the  head- 
land which  marks  the  western  limit  of  the  Gulf  of 
Genoa.  When  we  are  once  more  in  daylight  we  are 
crossing  the  beautiful  Val  d'  Andora.  The  town  lies  at 
the  head  of  the  valley,  some  three  miles  from  the  coast ; 
and  here  I  should  have  broken  my  journey  had  I  been 
able  to  hear  of  any  possible  accommodation.  It  would 
be  a  fascinating  spot  to  camp  in  with  a  sympathetic 
companion,  and  at  a  season  when  more  settled  weather 
is  probable. 

200 


VILLANOVA  D'  ALBENGA 


We  pass  Andora  Marina,  an  offshoot  oi  the  older 
village,  and  we  begin  to  look  forward  to  seeing  Cervo 
S.  Bartolomeo. 

I  had  heard  great  things  of  this  place  and  had  also 
heard  that  if  I  wished  to  paint  there  I  should  hnd  no 
accommodation  nearer  than  at  Diano  Marina  some  three 
miles  further  along  the  coast.  Diano  Marina  was 
therefore  the  goal  of  my  journey.  It  is  not  till  we  get 
to  the  station,  when  approaching  from  the  east,  that  we 
get  a  view  of  Cervo,  perched  as  it  is  on  the  crest  and 
slope  of  the  bluff  we  have  to  round.  It  was  all  and 
more  than  I  was  given  to  expect,  and  seen  from  the 
railway  it  makes  a  brave  display  against  the  sky.  I  felt 
sure  I  should  find  nothing  at  Diano  Marina,  as  I  knew 
it  had  been  mostly  rebuilt  since  the  earthquake  of  i  887  ; 
anyhow  it  had  a  pension  fitted  up  for  English  guests 
and  failing  that  a  large  hotel.  And  should  Diano 
Marina  have  nothing  in  it  I  cared  to  paint  it  would  at 
all  events  serve  as  a  base  of  operations  for  an  attack  on 
Cervo. 


201 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

DIANO    MARINA,    CERVO    S.     BARTOLOMEO,    AND    A     SERMON 
IN    THE    CHURCH    AT    DIANO    CASTELLO. 

PRECIOUS  little  of  Diano  must  have  been  left 
standing  after  the  1887  earthquake,  for  what  I 
found  was  an  entirely  new  town  built  in  quadri- 
lateral blocks,  and  might  have  been  a  bit  lopped  ofF 
from  any  other  modern  Italian  town  and  stuck  on  the 
shore  here.  Not  expecting  much  I  was  not  very 
disappointed.  The  pension  not  having  a  vacant  room 
and  the  large  hotel  being  closed  till  the  summer  season 
was  a  more  serious  matter.  The  lady  who  keeps  the 
former  consoled  me  by  telling  me  of  a  possible  inn,  the 
Albergo  Garibaldi,  and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
their  best  room  disengaged. 

The  "  Garibaldi  "  has  much  in  common  with  the 
Albenga  inn  ;  but  the  few  bedrooms  and  arrangements 
it  has  in  an  adjoining  house  were  all  that  could  be 
desired.  Delicate  people  wishing  to  avoid  an  English 
winter  and  unable  to  afford  the  expensive  hotels  in  the 
more  fashionable  resorts  might  do  worse  than  go  to  this 
place.      Ladies  might  possibly  prefer  the  pension  to  the 


202 


'  Street  in   CerVo  San   Bartolommeo 

i 


>) 


II 


en   ki( 
what  I 


otf 


)t    very 

I 


liin,  tiic 
to  find 

!th   the 


to  tins 
to  the 


DIANO  MARINA 


noisier  albergo,  but  in  either  place  they  would  find 
comfortable  board  and  lodging  from  five  shillings  a  day. 
The  landlady  ot  the  Garibaldi  "  even  informed  me  that 
for  a  stay  longer  than  a  week  she  would  lower  her 
charges.  How  they  can  do  it  is  a  mystery,  especially  as 
they  count  on  no  extras,  the  wine  being  included  ;  and 
it  is  quite  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  housekeeping  can 
be  done  for  much  less  in  Italy  than  in  England. 

My  complaint  is  that  this  inn  is  not  at  Cervo  instead 
of  in  this  prim  and  uninteresting  Diano.  Very  few 
trains  stop  at  Cervo,  and  the  time  often  wasted  while 
waiting  for  overdue  ones  generally  obliged  me  to  walk 
or  drive  there.  It  is,  however,  well  worth  a  little  trouble 
to  get  there,  for  not  only  is  the  town  remarkably 
picturesque  whether  seen  from  the  plains  or  from  the 
sea,  but  it  is  equally  good  seen  in  detail  within  its  walls. 
It  looks  large  enough  to  contain  a  population  of  three 
or  four  thousand  souls,  but  I  was  told  there  were  hardly 
as  many  hundreds.  Women  and  children  and  a  few 
men  past  their  work  were  all  I  saw  ;  the  houses  were 
mostly  empty  and  in  woeful  repair,  though  no  signs  of 
the  earthquake  were  visible. 

I  entered  the  one  wine  shop  and  inquired  whether 
there  was  a  bed  to  be  got  there  or  anywhere  else  in  the 
town.  "  No,  no,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  what  could 
induce  anyone  to  stay  in  a  poor  old  town  such  as 
this  ?  "  I  told  her  that  some  artists  would  certainly  do 
so,  which  struck  her  as  verv  odd.  "  With  the  new  and 
clean    Diano   close  at  hand   would    you   want   to   make 

203 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

pictures  of  this  wretched  old  place  ?  "  "  Old  as  it  is," 
I  answered,  '  it  withstood  the  earthquake  in  a  way 
newer  towns  failed  to  do,  and  I  daresay  you  were  glad 
you  were  here  in   1887  instead  of  down  in  the  valley." 

This  started  her  well  off,  and  as  it  was  raining  outside 
I  was  glad  to  hear  all  she  could  tell  me.  We  felt  the 

terremoto  right  enough,  and  could  see  the  houses 
topphng  down  at  Diano  ;  but  solidly  built  as  we  are  on 
this  rock  we  got  little  more  than  a  shaking.  Our  old 
houses  remain,  but  where  are  our  men  who  lived  in 
them  }  They  all  have  to  find  work  elsewhere — c'  e 
niente,  niente  da  fare  qui.  Our  fishermen  were  once 
famous  throughout  the  Mediterranean,  and  not  a  sardine 
do  we  get  now  unless  we  buy  it  in  Diano.  The  coast 
is  too  rocky  to  allow  of  shore  fishing,  and  the  better 
equipped  coral  smacks  of  the  Rapallesi  have  ruined  that 
trade  of  ours." 

The  church  of  S.  Bartolomeo,  which  is  the  great 
feature  of  this  rock-built  town,  is  an  evidence  of  the 
prosperity  of  the  former  Cervesi  fishermen,  and  its 
rococo  interior  would  have  been  more  gorgeous  than  at 
present  but  for  the  following  tragic  event  :  When  this 
church  was  nearly  complete  money  was  not  sufficiently 
forthcoming  to  decorate  it  as  sumptuously  as  the  pious 
inhabitants  wished.  To  remedy  this  the  sailors  vowed 
to  the  Madonna  that  the  whole  of  the  profits  of  their 
next  catch  would  be  devoted  to  a  chapel  raised  in  his 
honour.      They   had   discovered   a  spot  off  the   African 

coast  where  a  valuable  kind  of  coral  was  plentiful  and 

204 


DIANO  MARINA 


which  they  managed  to  keep  secret  from  all  others. 
The  decoration  of  this  chapel  was  to  have  been  their 
thankoffering.  Every  man  and  boy  joined  in  this  quest, 
leaving  the  women  and  children  to  fend  for  themselves. 
But  months  went  by  without  any  news  of  the  coral 
fleets  ;  then  years  brought  no  ship  back  to  their  port,  and 
except  the  boys  oi  tender  years  every  male  was  lost  to 
the  town.  Whether  they  perished  in  some  storm  or 
whether  they  were  taken  captive  by  the  corsairs  nobody 
can  tell. 

The  weather  clearing  I  bade  the  old  woman  good-bye 
and  proceeded  to  explore  this  singular  town.  The 
medieval  builders  could  hardly  have  chosen  a  more 
difficult  site  on  which  to  ply  their  art.  It  was 
comparatively  easy  when  the  upper  part  was  being 
constructed,  far  from  level  as  that  is  ;  but  its  approach 
from  the  shore  necessitated  tresh  adaptation  every  tew 
yards.  At  places  the  rock  rises  sheer  from  an  inclined 
shelf  beneath  it,  and  through  a  tunnel  or  a  series  of 
arches  supporting  the  houses  stuck  against  the  rock's 
face  we  proceed  till  a  flight  of  steps  takes  us  round  an 
angle  and  brings  us  to  a  higher  ledge.  Years  ot  rain 
and  sunshine  have  so  assimilated  the  masonry  to  the 
rock  on  which  it  rests  that  we  are  often  puzzled  to 
distinguish  where  the  work  of  nature  ends  and  that  ot 
man  begins. 

Where  the  houses  face  each  other  on  the  higher  levels 
they  are  tied  together  by  flying  buttresses,  and  the  streets 

are  so  narrow  that  we  only  see   a  strip  ot  sky  between 

205 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

these  overhead  arches.  There  it  has  much  in  common 
with  the  old  parts  of  San  Remo  and  many  other  towns 
on  this  earthquake-shaken  coast  ;  it  is  where  the  town 
hangs  to  the  side  of  the  cliff  that  we  marvel  at  the  work 
of  these  fine  old  builders. 

What  an  insight  we  get  oi  life  in  the  middle  ages  ! 
Lightly  built  cottages  on  the  shore  would  have  sufficed 
for  the  wants  of  the  fisher-folk  but  for  the  constant 
menace  from  the  sea.  As  it  was,  their  fortress-built 
town  barely  sufficed  to  protect  them  from  the  Barbary 
corsairs,  for  even  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century  we  hear  of  many  being  carried  away  from  this 
coast  to  be  sold  as  slaves  in  the  African  markets. 

The  comparative  security  of  its  position  is  one  of  the 
chief  causes  of  its  present  decline.  Life  and  property 
being  safe  in  the  valley  below,  with  the  exception  of  an 
occasional  earthquake,  the  fisher-folk  naturally  prefer  to 
build  where  they  can  more  conveniently  ply  their  trade 
than  to  keep  their  former  inaccessible  homes  in  repair, 
and  only  the  peasants  who  cultivate  the  terraced  slopes 
of  the  hill  use  the  deserted  houses  to  store  their  produce. 

The  new  names  to  the  deserted  lanes  add  an  irony  to 
the  general  decay.  A  rat  was  all  the  life  I  saw  in  the 
Via  Umberto  Primo  ;  there  was  a  little  more  animation 
in  the  Via  Mazzini,  where  an  old  man  was  driving  a  pig 
into  the  house  of  some  former  grandee,  and  in  the 
Piazza  XXII  Settembre,  the  forum  of  Cervo,  a  few  fowls 
sought  a  precarious  living  amongst  the  middens  heaped 

on  the  pavement. 
206 


DIANO  MARINA 


A  sense  of  the  ridiculous  is  seldom  a  characteristic  of 
the  official  mind  ;  and  whether  a  jackass  renamed  these 
streets  or  someone  who  intended  it  for  a  jest  it  is 
equally  lamentable,  for  the  old  names  which  have  been 
obliterated  might  have  given  us  some  insight  into  the 
story  of  the  town.  In  some  towns,  when  renaming  the 
streets,  they  have  the  sense  to  leave  the  earlier  name 
beneath  the  new.  But  surely  some  other  means  of 
honouring  the  great  personages  ot  the  Risorgimento 
might  be  found. 

The  destroyed  Diano  Marina  was  probably  a  town  of 
recent  date,  and  peopled  by  the  parent  town  of  Diano 
Castello,  a  couple  of  miles  inland,  when  with  com- 
parative safety  houses  dared  be  built  on  the  shore.  The 
new  town,  run  up  since  the  earthquake,  probably  replaces 
one  that  was  not  of  great  interest,  whereas  Diano 
Castello  remains  a  typical  old  Italian  hill  town. 

I  strolled  up  there  one  Sunday  morning  and  saw  most 
of  its  population  gathered  in  the  parish  church.  As  at 
Cervo,  there  were  few  who  were  not  at  one  of  the  two 
extremes  of  life,  those  able  to  work  having  sought  that 
work  elsewhere. 

I  sat  through  the  sermon,  and  regret  that  much  of  it 
was  lost  on  me,  for  the  priest  whenever  he  took  his 
parishioners  into  his  confidence  lapsed  into  the  dialect. 
He  began  by  reading  a  pastoral  letter  in  that  monotone 
often  affected  by  ecclesiastics,  but  when  he  made  his 
comments  he  showed  extraordinary  powers  of  declama- 
tion, often  beginning  on  a  very  high  note  and  descending 

207 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

to  a  low  rumble  that  seemed  to  proceed  from  the 
bottom  of  the  pulpit.  His  pauses  were  long  enough  to 
let  one  speculate  on  which  note  in  his  gamut  he  would 
throw  out  the  first  word  of  his  next  sentence  and 
whether  it  would  be  in  good  Italian  or  in  dialect. 
There  was  fortunately  enough  of  the  former  to  let  me 
understand  what  excited  him  so  much. 

The  pastoral  note  was  one  which  has  caused  some 
amusement  in  the  Italian  papers.  It  was  no  other  than 
a  papal  condemnation  of  the  Tango.  It  might  cause 
some  giddy  young  persons  to  reflect  in  a  fashionable 
congregation,  but  it  was  surely  wasted  energy  here. 
The  poor,  worn-out  old  people  and  the  children  who 
were  either  asleep  or  playing  under  the  seats  were 
warned  against  the  dangers  of  this  "  obscene  dance 
imported  from  Brazil,  or  some  such  place,"  and 
threatened  with  condign  punishment  should  they  ever 
indulge  in  '   such  shameless  exhibitions." 

When  the  good  old  padre  had  laboured  that  subject 
sufliciently  he  led  on  to  another  with  which  his  congrega- 
tion may  not  have  been  in  such  complete  sympathy. 
This  was  the  poor  attendance  at  the  early  mass. 
What  had  I  here  this  morning.?"  A  long  pause 
following  to  prepare  us  for  what  this  could  be.  One 

poor  old  woman."  A  second  pause  during  which  eyes 
moved  about  to  discover  the  fortunate  woman.  And 

what  were  you  all  doing  ?  "  Pauses  now  becoming 
uncomfortable.  Why,    snoring   in    your    beds."       A 

feeling  of  guilt  coming  my  way.  No  doubt  you  all 

208 


DIANO   MARINA 


thought  yourselt  very  good  in  not  dancing  the  Tango, 
but  how  about  these  duties  and  privileges  you  so  shame- 
fully neglect  ?  "  He  then  lapsed  into  the  dialect  and  I 
lost  what  followed.  From  his  smile  and  friendly  address 
I  gathered  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  too  hard  on  us. 

About  a  third  of  the  little  town  had  tumbled  down  a 
side  ot  the  hill  during  the  earthquake  twenty-seven  years 
ago.  It  still  lay  there  as  it  tell,  the  remaining  two-thirds 
being  quite  sufficient  to  house  its  ever  diminishing 
population. 

The  church  had  evidently  had  a  narrow  escape,  for 
some  adjoining  buildings  were  still  in  ruin,  and  one  of 
its  walls  had  been  newly  buttressed. 

Beyond  this  village  three  successive  hills,  each  rising 
higher  as  we  get  more  inland,  are  capped  by  a  village, 
each  one  more  quaint  than  the  last.  First  we  have 
Diano  S.  Pietro,  next  Diano  Borello,  and  lastly  Diano 
Arentino. 

I  asked  the  landlady  of  my  inn  whether  she  was  in 
Diano    during    the    awful    day    ot    February    in    1887. 

Indeed  I  was,"  she  answered,  and  besides  losing  my 
mother  and  a  sister  I  only  escaped  death  by  a  miracle." 
She  told  me  that  the  shocks  lasted  between  seven  and 
nine  a.m.  during  which  time  the  village,  as  it  then  was, 
lost  232  souls.  All  who  escaped  after  the  tirst  shock 
fled  to  the  edge  of  the  sea,  and  from  there  they  saw 
most  of  the  remaining  houses  crash  down  at  different 
intervals.  "  The  church  is  all  that  remains  ot  the 
former  place,"  she  said.  "  Several  times  we  saw  the 
14  209 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

tower  rock  violently,  and  terrified  as  we  were  we  all 
prayed  that  our  church  might  be  spared.  Nothing  less 
than  a  miracle  could  have  saved  it.  A  violent  commo- 
tion of  the  sea  drove  us  back  into  our  ruined  village  or 
we  should  have  been  engulfed  in  a  great  wave  that 
dashed  in  as  far  as  the  front  of  the  church.  We  were 
too  terrified  to  think  of  our  loss  till  these  shocks  ceased. 
We  were  too  scattered  to  know  who  might  have 
succumbed.  It  was  while  the  dead  and  the  dying  were 
brought  from  under  the  ruins  of  our  home  that  we 
realized  the  full  horror  of  the  catastrophe." 

The  country  at  large  contributed  liberally  towards  the 
rebuilding  of  the  village,  which  has  since  increased  to  a 
town  owing  to  its  being  on  the  high  road  and  close  to 
the  shore.  It  also  attracts  many  Italians  during  the 
bathing  season  when  the  large  hotel  opens  its  doors  ; 
and  little  villas  are  springing  up  on  the  higher  ground 
at  the  west  end  of  the  valley.  Oneglia,  a  busy  manu- 
facturing town,  is  only  four  miles  further  on,  and  two 
miles  beyond  that  is  the  harbour  and  town  of  Porto 
Maurizio  ;  the  resuscitated  Diano  will  lay  itself  out  more 
and  more  to  catch  the  tripper,  and  its  sea-fishing  will 
drop  to  little  more  than  a  picturesque  incident  in  the 
excursionist's  day. 


2IO 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE     COAST    TOWNS     BETWEEN     DIANO     MARINA    AND     SAN 
REMO  ;     THE    TWO  SAN  REMOS,   THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW 

THE  aspect  of  Oneglia  is  that  of  a  prosperous 
modern  town  ;  its  modernity  would  not  be  strik- 
ing were  we  to  approach  it  from  the  west. 
But  after  hngering  some  weeks  on  the  stretch  of  coast 
between  it  and  Savona  a  town  more  or  less  up-to-date 
comes  as  a  surprise.  In  spite  of  this  newness  Oneglia 
has  existed  as  a  town  of  some  importance  since  the 
middle  ages.  Its  history  w^ould  be  too  much  of  a 
repetition  of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  other  coast  towns 
to  enter  fully  into  it  here.  Previous  to  1566  it  was 
the  capital  of  a  small  principality  belonging  to  a  branch 
of  the  Doria  family,  the  most  distinguished  member  of 
which  was  born  here  in  1466.  This  was  Andrea,  to 
whom  we  have  often  referred,  and  whose  life  makes  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  the  Genoese  Republic. 

Oneglia    cannot     claim    much    beauty  ;     but    much 

that    is    beautiful    can    be    seen    from    it.       On    a    lofty 

peninsula,  two  miles  across  the  bay,  its  neighbour  Porto 

Maurizio  makes  a  bold  outline  against  the  sky,  and  if 

14*  211 


AN  ARTIST   IN  THE   RIVIERA 

we  get  a  little  nearer  and  view  it  from  the  shore  we 
might  take  it  for  a  grand  old  medieval  town  thrown  up 
to  the  best  advantage  by  the  hill  it  covers.  As  there 
are  many  other  places  more  worth  visiting  we  should  do 
well  to  let  this  view  of  Porto  Maurizio  suffice.  Disap- 
pointment awaits  those  who  see  it  more  in  detail. 

The  next  twelve  miles  of  coast  present  nothing 
exceptional  in  scenery  ;  but  we  once  more  pass  through 
a  district  as  forgotten  and  unsophisticated  as  that  we 
have  seen  east  of  Oneglia.  The  low  massive  towers  of 
San  Lorenzo  al  Mare,  the  fortified  S.  Stefano  crowning 
a  hill  on  our  right,  and  other  crumbling  fortresses  whose 
absent  stones  may  be  traced  in  the  dwellings  near  them, 
tell  of  days  which  excite  the  imagination  but  which  it 
were  folly  to  regret. 

We  cross  the  beautiful  valley  of  Taggia  and  after 
skirting  Capo  Verde  the  outlying  parts  of  San  Remo 
bring  us  with  a  rush  to  present-day  times. 

The  town  of  Taggia  is  some  three  miles  from  the 
coast ;  it  is  well  worth  a  visit,  partly  on  account  of  the 
town  itself  and  partly  to  see  some  specimens  of  the  one 
fitteenth-century  artist  of  note  which,  as  far  as  I  know, 
the  Riviera  has  produced.  This  is  Lodovico  Brea. 
Little  seems  known  of  him  except  that  he  was  born  at 
Nice,  and  although  his  work  does  not  take  a  high  place 
amongst  the  masterpieces  of  the  quattrocento  it  is  never- 
theless a  treat  to  come  across  it  in  a  part  of  Italy 
singularly  devoid  of  local  talent.  Those  who,  like 
myself,   have  delighted  in    the  pages  of  "  Dr.  Antonio" 

212 


f« 


Vicolo  delta   VroVidenza,  San   Remo 


n  up 

Vs  there 

ould  do 

Disap- 

nothing 
rhroiigh 
I  hat  we 
>wers  of 
owning 
s  whose 
r  them, 

omaSl   nolv  .o^nsbi'Jon't   oWsb  o\ooiN|  hich    it 

d    after 
Remo 

from   the 

of  the 

ihe  one 

^   I   know, 

'    Brea. 

IS  born  at 

h  plact 

is  never- 

r    Italy 

d    of 


THE  COAST  TOWNS 


may  be  interested  to  see  the  house  in  which  its  gitted 
author,  Giovanni  Ruffini,  Hved  from  1875  ^^  1881, 
the  year  of  his  death.  A  monument  commemorates 
him  and  his  two  brothers  who  suffered  in  the  cause  of 
the  unification  of  Italy. 

An  interesting  excursion  may  be  made  from  San 
Remo  to  Taggia  and  returning  across  the  hills  via 
Bussana,  a  ruined  hill-town  which,  more  than  any, 
makes  us  realize  the  terrible  havoc  made  by  the  1887 
earthquake.  No  attempt  has  been  made  to  rebuild  it  ; 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  shrubs  and  brambles, 
which  partly  conceal  the  desolation,  the  town  remains  as 
it  was  when  the  last  bodies  were  unearthed  beneath  its 
ruins.  More  money  was  subscribed  than  required  for 
rebuilding,  and  fortunately  the  survivors  elected  to  build 
a  new  town  more  accessible  to  the  coast  and  have  left 
untouched  what  remains  as  an  interesting  ruin.  The 
campanile  still  stands,  and  in  its  way  is  picturesque,  but 
the  baroque  church  interior  is  anything  but  a  noble 
ruin  ;  its  sham  construction  and  tawdry  decoration  look 
ghastly  after  a  few  years  of  exposure  to  the  weather.  A 
fat  lump  of  a  cherub  sprawls  beneath  the  high  altar, 
while  its  companion  still  sticks  to  its  original  place,  to 
all  appearance  by  the  cobwebs  which  envelop  it.  With 
the  exception  of  this  gimcrack  interior  everything  else 
savours  of  the  ruin  of  a  medieval  little  town. 

Let  us  hope  that  the  survivors  and  the  new  generation 
find  more  prosperity  in  the  new  town  they  have  built 
than    in    the    less    accessible    one    they    left.        But   for 

213 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

ugliness  Bussana  Nuova  beats  any  new  town  I  have  ever 
seen.  Most  of  the  money  subscribed  has  gone  to 
building  the  church.  It  has  its  points  though  it  fails  to 
awaken  much  interest. 

We  return  through  the  new  part  of  San  Remo  which 
is  ever  extending  eastward  and  is  known  as  the  German 
part,  and  after  two  miles  of  this  we  pass  through  the 
busiest  quarters  and  get  to  the  western  end,  known  as 
the  English  part.  The  old  town  which  lies  on  the 
slopes  above  the  centre  is  happily  still  untouched  by 
these  foreign  influences.  San  Remo  is  the  one  place 
on  either  of  the  Rivieras  where  one  can  be  surrounded 
with  all  the  luxury  of  the  present  day,  and  yet  by 
passing  through  one  of  the  gates  of  the  old  town  we 
can  revel  in  the  picturesque  and  much  of  the  romance 
of  medieval  times. 

"  There  are  two  San  Remos,"  writes  Mr.  Baring 
Gould,  "  that  of  to-day,  with  its  pretentious  villas 
rivalling  each  other  in  ugliness,  and  the  old  San  Remo. 
The  former  is  clean  with  open  spaces,  a  broad  main 
street,  and  is  dotted  about  with  palms  and  agaves  in 
sub-tropical  gardens.  The  old  San  Remo  is  a  network, 
a  labyrinth  of  narrow,  tortuous  lanes.  The  old  portion 
goes  by  the  name  of  La  Pigna,  the  Pine-cone,  because  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  ancient  houses  are  grouped, 
pressed  together  one  on  another,  rising  towards  a 
culminating  conical  point. 

"  The  old  town  is  built  upon  a  hill  that  descends  gendy 
to  the  sea  and  whose  summit  is  crowned  by  a  sanctuary. 
214 


THE  COAST  TOWNS 


The  streets  twist  about,  are  steep,  with  steps,  and 
paved  with  bricks  or  rolled  stones.  The  old  houses 
elbow  one  another  away  to  get  a  little  breath,  or  sustain 
themselves  trom  falling  by  stretching  out  a  flying  buttress, 
each  against  its  vis-a-vis,  like  tipsy  men  with  linked 
arms   hoping  to   keep   their  feet  by   mutual   support." 

There  is  one  thing  Old  San  Remo  has  in  common 
with  the  New,  which  the  picturesque  quotation  might 
fail  to  convey,  and  that  is  its  cleanliness.  Visitors 
usually  come  with  a  camera  in  one  hand  and  a 
handkerchief  m  the  other,  and  though  they  constantly 
use  the  former  they  have  little  occasion  for  the  latter.  It 
is  greatly  to  the  credit  ot  the  authorities  that  they  pre- 
serve the  medieval  character  ot  the  old  town  while  doing 
all    in   their   power   to   keep   it   wholesome   and   clean. 

With  this  as  a  sketching-ground,  being  amongst 
relations  and  friends  in  a  well-appointed  modern  hotel, 
the  enjoyment  of  luxuries  looked  forward  to  while 
roughing  it  in  humble  Italian  alherghi  might 
conceivably  have  been  the  sum  of  my  happiness.  It 
was  indeed  a  pleasure  to  associate  once  more  with  well- 
bred  people  of  my  own  country  ;  to  be  within  easy 
reach  of  books  and  news  of  what  was  going  on  in 
England,  and  with  a  comfortable  chair  to  read  it  in  ; 
but  above  all  it  was  a  pleasure  to  converse  with  English 
ladies  and  hear  the  chatter  and  laughter  of  their  pretty, 
fresh-faced  daughters.  Yes,  it  was  certainly  very 
pleasant,  and  a  few  days  of  rest  in  these  surroundings 
was  probably  all  to  the  good. 

215 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

I  had  spent  two  or  three  months  at  San  Remo  some 
years  previously  ;   and,  after   the  season  was  over,  I  was 
obhged  to  move  to  an  hotel  run  by  Italians  which  keeps 
open   after   those  which   cater   for   foreigners   are  closed. 
Now,    when    I    got   to   work   again   in   the  old   town,    I 
somehow   felt  less   in   sympathy  with   my   subjects   than 
during  the  latter  part  ot  my  previous  visit.      The  streets 
had  not   changed,  and   they  are  quite   as   picturesque  as 
those  which  had   filled   me  with   enthusiasm   in   Noli  or 
Albenga — why  did  these  not  do  the  same  ?      I  pondered 
this   in    my   mind    while    returning    one    day    from   La 
Pigna  to   the   Grand   Hotel  des  Anglais,  and   no  sooner 
had  I  reached   the   carriage  drive   than    the   sight   of  the 
huge   palatial   building  brought   home   to   me   what  was 
amiss  :     these   surroundings   were   not   in   tune  with    the 
work    I   was  on.       I    recalled    vain    attempts    to    paint 
Japan  while  I  remained  in  a  similar  kind  of  hotel  there, 
and  how  my  work  improved  when    I    dwelt  amongst  the 
people.      It  was  the  same  thing  in  the  near   East  as  well 
as  in   European   countries.      Had  I  been  obliged  to  stay 
a    lengthened    period     in    my    present    surroundmgs    I 
should    have    dropped    the    old    town    and    sought   tor 
subjects  amongst  the  people  and   in  the  gardens  of   New 
San  Remo. 

The  spacious,  but  tasteless,  apartments  soon  began  to 
pall  on  me  ;  the  long  table  d'h6te  meals  became 
irksome,  and  lack  of  appetite  deprived  the  richer  fare  of 
its  enjoyment.  Charming  as  some  of  my  fellow  guests 
were  I  hope  it  may  be  in  England  that  I  renew  these 
216 


THE  COAST  TOWNS 


friendships — when   next   in    Italy   I   shall  again  live  as 
the  Italians. 

I  should  be  doing  an  injustice  to  the  obliging  land- 
lord if  what  I  have  said  left  an  impression  that  his 
hotel  was  a  comfordess  place  in  which  to  pass  a  season  ; 
for  there  could  be  no  better  recommendation  than  that 
his  guests  return  there  should  they  spend  more  than  one 
season  at  San  Remo.  He  catered  for  the  Enghsh,  and 
his  hotel  was  as  English  and  as  litde  Italian  as  he  could 
possibly  make  it — even  to  the  brownish  slop  many 
Englishmen  still  drink  as  coffee.  But  it  is  in  England 
that  I  enjoy  an  English  hotel,  and  not  a  make-believe  one 
on  the  Continent.  There  are  at  present  many  good 
Italian  inns,  as,  for  instance,  the  one  at  Sestri  Levante  ; 
the  rough  accommodation  in  some  of  the  other  towns  and 
villages  is,  after  all,  in  keeping  with  the  humbler  classes 
who   use   it,    and   also  with   the   modesty   ot   the   bill. 

I  spent  a  month  here  in  a  German  hotel  some  fifteen 
years  ago,  and  this  being  kept  by  a  German-Swiss  it 
was  much  more  German  than  the  Hotel  des  Anglais  is 
English.  It  was  my  first  visit  to  San  Remo,  and  I 
chose  that  inn  because  I  had  a  German  friend  there, 
and  at  that  time  I  spoke  more  German  than  Italian. 
The  absurdity  of  living  amongst  Germans  and  eating 
German-prepared  food  outside  the  "  Fatherland  "  soon 
struck  me  ;  and  I  was  glad  when  the  place  closed  at 
the  end  of  the  season  and  gave  me  a  good  excuse  to 
move  to   an    Italian   house  which   remains   open   all  the 

year.      Not  till  then  did  I  really  feel  that  I  was  in  Italy. 

217 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

I  was  also  close  to  the  old  town  where  my  subjects  lay, 
and  felt  less  of  a  stranger  in  it  while  living  more  as  its 
people  live. 

I  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  a  painter  of  cows, 
for  instance,  should  live  in  a  cow-shed  ;  but  I  feel 
convinced  that  he  would  learn  more  about  cows  it  he 
lodged  with  a  dairyman  than  if  he  were  the  guest  of 
the  squire. 

I  stayed  on  in  San  Remo,  on  my  former  visit,  till 
the  early  summer,  and  witnessed  the  procession  of  the 
"  Corpus  Domini."  Whether  it  was  because  I  had 
then  seen  fewer  processions  that  this  one  made  a  lasting 
impression,  or  whether  it  was  on  account  of  its 
picturesque  setting,  I  can't  say.  But  it  was  not  till 
years  after  that,  with  the  help  ot  some  studies,  I  was 
able  to  paint  it  as  well  as  if  1  had  seen  it  the  day 
before.  The  emblems  of  an  ancient  faith  carried  in 
solemn  procession  through  the  streets  should  always  be 
a  moving  sight,  whether  one  holds  that  taith  or  not ; 
and  at  present  it  is  more  than  an  ordinary  religious 
function  :  it  is  a  public  declaration  of  faith,  and  one 
which,  in  many  so-called  Catholic  countries,  may 
seriously  prejudice  the  position  of  him  who  participates. 
The  innumerable  government  billets  in  the  Latin 
countries  are  seldom  given  to  any  man  seen  carrying  a 
candle  in  a  religious  procession. 

In    most    of  the   larger   towns    these    processions    are 

prohibited  ;    whether  this  be  so  at  San   Remo  since   my 

former  visit  I  can't  say.      I  arrived  during  Holy  Week, 
218 


A   Procession  in  San  Remo 


;uest   lit 
isit,  tiii 


iiot   til; 
om^Sl  not.  n\   noJit930i*5    K  ,    I   was 

he  da} 
ried   in 
vays  he 
>\  or  i 


.J,    ma\ 


!ri 


i           ' 

« i 

'■■M 

/^ 

"'«> 

*v,.,  i^^t-'-'A*"  ■ 

,^ 

«l**.^S)..r, 


It' 


^^         » 


•nj» 


-«h. 


;,,!,..   i.).u<.«^,-!« 


THE  COAST  TOWNS 


and  although  there  was  Httle  to  mark  this  in  the  streets 
the  church  interiors  were  hardly  recognizable  owing  to 
the  lavish  decorations.  On  Good  Friday  the  scene  at 
the  sepulchre  was  represented  in  one  by  lite-sized  wax 
figures  on  a  low  stage  before  the  high  altar.  That  this 
was  well  meant  I  am  willing  to  admit  ;  but  it  was  a 
horrible,  tawdry  performance  from  an  artistic  point  of 
view.  On  Easter  Eve  every  youth  and  small  boy  is 
provided  with  a  clapper,  or  a  horn,  or  anything  else  that 
can  distract  the  ear.  The  primary  object  is  to  drive  ofi 
the  evil  spirits — the  delight  in  making  a  hideous  noise 
gives  that  object  its  zest. 

San  Remo  has  one  very  interesting  church  in  that  of 
S.  Siro.  Its  style  is  described  as  Lombardic  Romanesque. 
An  ugly  rococo  frontage  hid,  until  recendy,  the  original 
work  which  wx  now  see  ;  and  by  careful  restoration  the 
work  of  the  seventeenth  century  has  also  been  removed 
from  the  interior.  Its  fourteenth-century  tower  had  been 
knocked  down  when  the  English  fleet  bombarded  San 
Remo  in  1745,  and  this  had  been  replaced  by  the 
absurd  structure  existing  until  the  last  few  years.  San 
Siro  now  ranks  as  one  of  the  finest  monuments  of 
ecclesiastical  architecture  on  the  Riviera. 

No  sooner  are  the  churches  cleared  of  their  Easter 
trappings  than  preparations  for  the  following  festival  are 
seen  in  everv  street  in  the  old  town.  It  is  not  solely  to 
decorate  their  own  shrines  that  the  San  Remesi  are  so 
busy  plaiting  the  leaves  of  the  date  palm.  The  bleached 
fronds,  twisted  into  every  possible  shape,  will  be  sent  all 

219 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

over  the  country  to  adorn  the  altars  on  Palm  Sunday  ; 
and  only  those  from  this  town  are  allowed  to  enter  S. 
Peter's  at  Rome.  We  must  go  back  to  1586  to 
discover  the  origin  of  this  privilege. 

In  that  year  the  Pope,  Sixtus  V.,  ordered  that  the 
obelisk  which  Caligula  had  brought  over  from  Heliopolis 
should  be  set  up  in  the  square  before  S.  Peter's,  where  it 
stands  to  this  present  day.  It  is  said  to  have  taken  800 
men  and  150  horses  to  drag  it  from  the  circus  of  Nero 
where  it  had  stood.  We  are  also  told  that  it  took 
forty-six  cranes  to  raise  the  huge  monolith  and  that 
Sixtus  gave  orders  that  no  man,  woman  or  chdd  in  the 
vast  assembly  should,  under  pain  of  death,  utter  a  word 
during  the  momentous  proceedings.  In  silence  they 
watched  the  colossal  stone  rise  from  the  ground  until  it 
was  nearly  in  an  upright  position,  and  then  it  suddenly 
stopped.  The  suspense  was  awful  and  soon  the  ropes 
began  to  yield  ;  a  shout,  "  Acqua  alle  funi  !  "  broke  the 
silence,  and  the  workmen  at  once  threw  buckets  of 
water  on  to  the  ropes,  and  as  these  slowly  shrunk  so  the 
obelisk  rose  till  it  stood  firmly  on  its  base. 

This    timely   advice   was   given,  despite   the  threat   of 

death,  by  one  named  Bresca,  a  captain  of  a  San  Remo 

fishing    smack.       For    thus    having    saved    the    obelisk 

Sixtus   gave   the    intrepid    sailor,    his    family,    and    their 

descendants   the   sole   right   to   furnish   the  palms  to  S. 

Peter's.      A  reward  which  cost  the  Pontiff  little  but  has 

added  considerably  to  the  prosperity  of  the  Bresca  family 

and  to  its  native  town. 
220 


CHAPTER    XX 

EXCURSIONS       FROM       SAN        REMO  :         LA       MADONNA        DI 

LAMPEDUSA  ;    CERIANA,   DOLCEACQUA.        BORDIGHERA,   AND 

THE    TRUE    STORY    OF    ITS    BOMBARDMENT    BY 

THE  BRITISH  FLEET 

BOTH  San  Remo  and  its  neighbour  Bordighera 
have  been  spoilt  to  a  certain  extent  by  having 
the  railway  between  them  and  the  sea.  Access 
to  the  beach  by  bridges  and  tunnels  destroys  some  of 
the  charm  of  a  sea-side  place.  There  has  been  much 
talk  ot  taking  the  line  behind  both  towns  ;  but  as  this 
would  involve  an  enormous  expense,  owing  to  the 
length  ot  the  tunnelling  required,  it  will  probably  end  in 
talk.  For  what  they  lack  in  this  respect  they  make 
amends  in  the  facilities  they  give  for  reaching  what  is 
most  interesting  and  beautiful  in  the  country  behind 
them. 

For  an  easy  half-day's  excursion  there  is  nothing 
better  than  the  ruined  Bussana,  of  which  we  have 
spoken.  Pedestrians  can  hurry  through  the  east  suburb 
of  San  Remo  by  taking  the  tram  as  far  as  Poggio,  from 

221 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

whence   it   is  an   easy  walk   of  two  or  three   miles  with 

a  good  view  of  the  ruined  hill-town  and  valley  beneath 

nearly  the  whole  way. 

Those  who  have  read  Dr.  Ruffini's  delightful  novel, 

Dr.    Antonio,"    will    wish    to   visit    the   shrine   of  the 

Madonna  of  Lampedusa.      The  miracle  commemorated 

by    this    shrine    has    much    in    common    with    that    ot 

Mostallegro,   said    to    have   taken   place   half  a    century 

earlier ;    and   what    the    latter    is   to   the   people   of   the 

Eastern  Riviera  so  is  this   Madonna  to  those  who  dwell 

in  the  Western.      In  both  cases  the  climb  to  the  shrine 

is  well  worth   the   exertion   even   to   those  who  disregard 

their  associations.      We    get    over    the    least    interesting 

part  of  the  road   by  taking  the   train   to  Taggia  station, 

from  whence  we  may  either  drive  to  the  town  or  walk 

the   three   miles   to   the    head    of  the  vaDey  which   the 

town  overlooks.      The  fertile  Val  di  Taggia  was  an  inlet 

of  the  sea  to  within  recent  times,  for  in  1525  Francis  I., 

after  his  defeat  at   Pavia,  embarked   from  Taggia   itself 

on  his  leaving  for  Spain.      The  Argentina,  which  rushes 

through  the  arches  ot   the  grand   old   bridge  above  the 

town,  has  in  this  short   period  brought  down  sufficient 

debris   from   the   mountains   to   raise   its   bed   and   drive 

back  the  sea  from  the  town. 

We  cross   the   bridge  and   ascend    the   steep   road   to 

Castellaro,  which  smiles  on  us  from  the  height  on  which 

it   is   perched  ;    and  while  we  wind   up   the   road   to  the 

sanctuary  we  will   refer   to  what  Dr.   Rufhni   tells  us  of 

the   Madonna    di    Lampedusa.      "  Andrea    Arefosso,    a 
222 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  SAN  REMO 

native  of  Castellaro,  being  the  captain  of  a  privateer, 
was  one  day  attacked  and  defeated  by  the  Turks  and 
carried  to  the  Isle  of  Lampedusa.  Here  he  succeeded 
in  making  his  escape  and  hiding  himself:  until  the 
Turkish  vessel  which  had  captured  him  left  the  island. 
Arefosso,  being  a  man  oi  expedients,  set  about  building 
a  boat,  and  finding  himself  in  a  great  dilemma  what  to 
do  for  a  sail  ventured  on  the  bold  and  original  step  of 
taking  from  the  altar  of  some  church  or  chapel  of  the 
island  a  picture  of  the  Madonna  to  serve  as  one  ;  and 
so  well  did  it  answer  his  purpose  that  he  made  a  most 
prosperous  voyage  back  to  his  native  shores,  and,  in  a 
fit  of  generosity,  offered  his  holy  sail  to  the  worship  of 
his  fellow  townsmen.  The  wonder  of  the  affair  does 
not  stop  here.  A  place  was  chosen  by  universal 
acclamation,  two  gun-shots  in  advance  of  the  present 
sanctuary,  and  a  chapel  erected  in  which  the  gift  was 
deposited  with  all  due  honour.  But  the  Madonna,  as 
it  would  seem,  had  an  insurmountable  objection  to  the 
spot  selected,  for,  every  morning  that  God  made,  the 
picture  was  found  in  the  exact  spot  where  the  actual 
church  now  stands.  At  length  the  Castellini  came  to 
understand  that  it  was  the  Madonna's  express  wish  that 
her  headquarters  should  be  shifted  to  where  her 
resemblance  betook  itself  every  night  ;  and  though  it 
had  pleased  her  to  make  choice  of  the  most  abrupt  and 
steepest  spot  on  the  whole  mountain,  just  where  it  was 
requisite  to  raise  arches  to  lay  a  sure  foundation  for  her 
sanctuary,  the  Castellini  set  themselves  co7i  amore  to  the 

223 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

task  so  clearly  revealed  to  them,  and  this  widely 
renowned  chapel  was  completed.  This  took  place  in 
1619.  In  the  course  of  time  some  wings  were  annexed 
for  the  accommodation  ot  visitors  and  pilgrims  and  a  ter- 
race built ;  for  though  the  Castellini  have  a  small  purse 
theirs  is  the  great  lever  which  can  remove  all  impedi- 
ments— the   faith   that   brought   about   the   Crusades." 

Not  only  did  the  villagers  construct  the  sanctuary  we 
are  approaching,  but  also  the  road  whose  zigzags  up 
the  shoulder  ot  the  mountain  we  ascend.  To  quote  Dr. 
Antonio  "  again  : — "  The  Castellini  who  made  this  road 
in  the  sweat  of  their  brows  point  it  out  with  pride,  as 
well  they  may.  They  tell  you  with  infinite  complacency 
how  every  one  of  the  pebbles  with  which  it  is  paved  was 
brought  from  the  sea-shore,  those  who  had  mules  using 
them  for  that  purpose,  those  who  had  none  bringing  up 
loads  on  their  backs ;  how  everyone,  gentleman  and 
peasant,  young  and  old,  women  and  boys,  worked  day 
and  night  with  no  other  inducement  than  their  love  ot 
the  Madonna.  The  Madonna  of  Lampedusa  is  their 
creed,  their  occupation,  their  pride,  their  can'occio,  their 
fixed  idea." 

These  evidences  ot  such  a  living  taith  move  us,  what- 
soever views  we  may  entertain  of  the  miracle. 

There  is  not  much  to  detain  us  in  the  little  church. 
We  are  apt  to  associate  with  the  debased  style  of  the 
seventeenth  century  a  faith  that  has  lost  its  vitality. 
However  this  may  have  been  in  the  larger  cities  it  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  the  case  here. 
224 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  SAN  REMO 

Should  the  day  be  propitious  we  get  a  variety  ot 
beautiful  views  from  the  plattorm  which  supports  the 
sanctuary.  A  screen  of  snow-clad  Alps  closes  in  the 
north  horizon,  boldly  outlined  hills  and  gorges  inter- 
vening. Beneath  us,  looking  south,  spreads  the  smiling 
Val  di  Taggia  with  its  medieval  town  spread  over  the 
higher  ground  on  the  right.  And  high  above  the 
undulating  hills  west  and  eastward  ot  this  spreads  the 
wide  horizon  of  the  Mediterranean. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  Italian  Riviera  is  the 
suddenness  with  which  we  can  drop  from  the  new  to  the 
old.  This  is  nowhere  more  striking  than  at  San  Remo. 
There  is  not  a  house  within  the  walls  of  the  old  town  to 
suggest  the  time  in  which  we  live  ;  whereas,  in  the  new 
town,  every  available  site  has  its  villa,  its  pension,  or  a 
brand-new  cumbersome  hotel.  The  poorer  sites  have 
been  the  portion  of  the  jerry  builder  who  has  run  up 
ugly  rows  of  houses  for  the  humbler  folk  who  follow  m 
the  train  of  the  ever  increasing  number  of  winter 
residents. 

Hardly  have  we  passed  the  last  board  advertising  for 
sale  a  site  suitable  for  the  erection  of  any  of  the  above, 
than  we  find  ourselves  in  this  unsophisticated  Val  di 
Taggia  with  its  quaint  medieval  town. 

I  was  there  one  Eastertide  and  witnessed  the  blessing 

■of  its   houses.      The   priest  accompanied  by  an  acolyte 

went  from  door  to  door  sprinkling  each  one  with  holy 

water   and   received    in    return   a    gitt   according   to   the 

means   of  the  occupier  ;    the  acolyte's  basket  becoming 
15  225 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

heavier  and  heavier  as  they   wended   their  way  towards 
the  parish  church. 

A  long  day's  excursion  for  the  pedestrian,  or  a  half- 
day  for  those  who  go  nowhere  beyond  the  reach  ot  their 
motor-cars,  is  to  the  romantic  hill-town  of  Ceriana.  It 
crests  the  spur  of  a  hill  at  the  head  ot  the  valley  to 
which  it  gives  its  name.  Seen  from  across  the  rushing 
stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  tew  towns  even  in  Italy 
make  a  bolder  outline  against  the  sky  than  Ceriana.  It 
has  an  interesting  old  church  and  baptistery  ;  but  more 
characteristic  than  these  are  some  of  its  streets,  which 
are  little  more  than  galleries  hewn  out  of  the  rock. 

Bordighera  being  only  eight  miles  west  of  San  Remo, 
with  a  fairly  trequent  service  ot  trains  between  the 
towns,  Dolceacqua  may  be  included  amongst  the  San 
Remo  excursions.  The  road  to  it  leaves  the  coast  a 
couple  ot  miles  from  Bordighera  and  after  ascending  the 
valley  ot  the  Nervia  it  passes  the  village  of  Campo 
Rosso.  Its  two  curious  tweltth-century  churches  are 
worth  visiting,  especially  S.  Pietro  where  we  find  some 
early  frescoes  and  some  pictures  attributed  to  Brea.  A 
little  beyond  this  village  stands  an  isolated  square  tower 
with  a  saddleback  roof.  It  is  presumably  ot  the 
fourteenth  century  ;  but  in  this  country,  so  full  of 
vestiges  of  the  middle  ages,  no  one  seems  to  have 
troubled  to  find  out  the  history  ot  this  one.  A 
precipitous  rock  crowned  with  the  sanctuary  of  Santa 
Croce  rises  sheer  above  the  old  tower.  Two  or  three 
miles  further  up  the  valley  stands  Dolceacqua. 
226 


The  "Blessing  of  the  Houses 


Lstuolji  9|c\i  \o  'ftn'mslff  at^T 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  SAN  REMO 

The  main  part  of  this  romantic  Httle  town  spreads 
over  a  hill  with  the  Nervia  at  its  base,  a  one-span 
bridge  connecting  it  with  the  lower  part  on  the  opposite 
bank.  Its  outline  is  not  as  wildly  picturesque  as  that 
of  Ceriana,  though  in  detail  it  gives  more  scope  for 
the  artist's  brush.  The  imposing  feudal  stronghold  ot 
the  Dorias  rising  from  the  houses  built  one  above  the 
other  wherever  a  foothold  was  possible  on  the  rocky 
base,  forms  a  grim  picture  of  the  precarious  existence 
here  in  medieval  times.  The  shell  of  the  castle  is 
almost  intact,  and  it  is  not  till  we  approach  nearer  and 
see  the  sky  through  its  windows  that  we  realize  that  roof 
and  floors  have  since  fallen  in.  It  was  inhabited  till 
the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  ;  whether  it  was 
dismantled  during  the  wars  of  that  period  or  left  to  fall 
into  its  present  state  of  ruin  through  neglect  we  are 
unable  to  find  out.  On  the  whole  the  romance  of  the 
hill-town  near  Bordighera  outweighs  the  picturesque  of 
San  Remo's  Ceriana. 

We  get,  m  a  somewhat  lesser  degree,  the  qualities  ot 
the  two  hill-towns  by  descending  to  the  valley  of  the 
Romolo,  a  stream  which  takes  its  source  on  the 
slopes  of  Monte  Bignone,  flows  past  the  sanctuary  that 
gives  it  its  name,  and  before  being  carried  beneath  the 
lower  part  of  the  old  town  laves  all  the  linen  of  San 
Remo  and  shoots  its  drainage  and  soapsuds  into  the  sea. 
It  is  far  beyond  the  Rocca  bridge  and  above  the  spot 
where  the  washerwomen  are  incessantly  at  work  that 
we  get  the  best  distant  view  of  Old  San  Remo.  There 
15*  227 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

the  stream  still  preserves  its  limpidity,  and  whether  its 
waters  rush  in  torrents  beneath  the  numerous  bridges  or 
merely  trickle  through  its  boulder-strewn  bed,  the 
Romolo  has  always  something  to  tempt  an  artist 
independently  of  the  picturesque  old  town  spreading 
over  the  hill  above  it.  A  combination  of  felicitous 
circumstances  has  left  this  valley  intact.  Hotel 
promoters  won't  touch  it,  as  it  commands  no  view  of 
the  Mediterranean,  modern  villas  don't  disfigure  it, 
owing  to  the  difficulties  of  access,  and  the  jerry 
builder  finds  it  too  far  from  the  centre  of  the  town 
to  tempt  him  to  erect  his  hideous  workmen's 
dwellings. 

The  sanctuary  of  S.  Romolo  is  not  far  from  the 
source  of  the  stream  and  five  miles  from  its  mouth. 
To  this  many  of  the  townsfolk  flock  on  the  13th  of 
October,  the  festival  of  the  saint.  He  was  a  Bishop  of 
Genoa  of  whom  little  is  known  save  that  he  retired, 
late  in  life,  to  a  cave  in  these  mountains,  where  he  died 
in  350.  The  chief  interest  we  have  in  him  is  his 
name,  which,  in  the  course  of  ages,  has  been  corrupted 
to  San  Remo.  It  is  curious  how  the  name  of  one  of 
the  Roman  twins  should  have  gradually  been  turned 
into  that  of  the  other.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the 
fourteenth  century  that  the  town  was  named  after  him. 
Ancient  Matuta  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Lombards 
under  Rotharis,  rebuilt  and  then  sacked  again  and 
again  by  the  Saracens  before  its  overlord,  the  Count  of 
Ventimiglia,  handed  it  over  to  the  Archbishop  of  Genoa 
228 


La  Rocca,  San  Remo 


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'*v- 


EXCURSIONS  FROM   SAN   REMO 

in  1038  ;  the  latter  in  his  turn  disposed  of  it  to  the 
families  oi  Doria  and  Mari.  But  the  first  being 
Ghibelline  while  the  other  was  Guelf,  the  lot  of  the 
people  ot  Matuta  was  not  a  happy  one.  Weakened  by 
continual  strife  between  the  opposing  factions,  the  town 
became  an  easy  prey  to  the  rapacity  of  the  Genoese 
Republic,  to  which  it  was  finally  annexed  in  1361. 
In  deference  to  its  local  saint,  himself  a  Genoese,  the 
name  of  Matuta  fell  into  disuse  and  that  oi  S.  Romolo 
took  its  place. 

A  Benedictine  convent  which  formerly  stood  near  the 
shrine  has  been  rebuilt  and  is  at  present  occupied  by  a 
sisterhood,  and  an  ugly  church  facade  hides  the  entrance 
to  the  cave. 

The   climb   up   to   Coldirodi    is   well  worth  anyone's 

while    both    tor    the    view    and    the    quaintness    of    the 

village.      It  is  perched  on  the  top  of  the  Capo  Nero,  the 

promontory  at  the  west  end  of  the  shallow  bay  of  San 

Remo.       The    Knights    of    Rhodes    who    founded    the 

village  built  a  large  Leper  Hospital  near  it,  and  though 

that  has  disappeared  its  name  still  survives  in  the  modern 

health  resort,  Ospedaletti,  situated  on  the  coast  midway 

between  San  Remo  and  Bordighera.      It  is  with  no  little 

surprise    that    we    find    in    this    hill-top   village    a    large 

library  and  a  more  or  less  valuable  collection  of  pictures. 

They    were    collected    and     bequeathed     by     the    Abbe 

Rambaldi  to  Coldirodi,  his  native  place,  in  1865.      The 

pictures  are  attributed  to  the  masters  of  the  seventeenth 

and  eighteenth  centuries.      The  regret  is  that  in  any  of 

229 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

the   collections  on  either   Riviera  we  find  so  few  works 
pertaining  to  a  local  school. 

Ospedaletti  has  little  in  itself  to  attract  anyone  beyond 
its  sheltered  position.  It  faces  the  south  and  is  more 
protected  from  the  cold  winds  than  possibly  any  spot  on 
the  whole  coast.  Its  name  is  interesting  from  its 
historical  associations  with  the  Knights  Hospitallers  ;  but 
it  suggests  painfully  the  state  of  health  of  those  who 
now  use  its  hospitality. 

Bordighera,  the  next  town  in  succession  as  we  move 
on  towards  France,  has  many  of  the  attractions  of  San 
Remo.  From  its  position  at  the  extreme  point  of  the 
Capo  S.  Ampeglio  it  is  more  exposed  than  some  of  its 
neighbours  ;  but  has  its  compensation  in  being  less 
relaxing.  The  abundance  of  sub-tropical  trees  which 
flourish  here  in  an  exceptional  degree  seems  a  proof 
that  it  sufTers  little  from  its  exposure. 

The  old  part  of  Bordighera  which  overlooks  the 
hotels  and  villas  on  its  western  side  is  very  similar  to  a 
fragment  of  old  San  Remo.  This  was  the  whole  extent 
of  the  place  to  within  forty  years  of  this.  It  was  first 
brought  into  notice  by  Dr.  Ruffini,  to  whom  we  referred 
while  speaking  of  his  native  town,  Taggia.  Most 
sojourners  in  Bordighera  will  have  read  his  Dr. 
Antonio,"  a  novel  which  he  wrote  in  English,  and  which 
was  the  cause  of  many  of  our  countrymen  coming  here 
to  enjoy  the  delights  which  he  so  graphically  describes. 
He  has  done  for  this  place  what  Cannes  owes  to  Lord 
Brougham,  Nice  to  Smollett,  and  Mentone  to  Bennet — 
230 


EXCURSIONS  FROM   SAN  REMQ 

the  invasion  of  the  English — happily  one  free  from  the 
horrors  we  associate  with  those  of  an  earlier  date.  The 
prosperity  this  has  added  to  many  a  previous  fishing 
village  on  this  coast  compensates  in  some  degree  for  the 
loss  of  their  picturesque  simplicity. 

Dr.  Ruffini  tells  us  of  the  arrival  in  these  waters  of 
an  English  man-of-war  in  1812,  which  was  anything 
but  a  pleasant  surprise  to  the  simple  fisherfolk.  They 
were  at  that  time  more  or  less  reconciled  to  the  French 
occupation  of  their  territory,  and  from  an  English  man- 
of-war  they  might  then  expect  as  many  cannon  balls  as 
one  now  might  drop  sovereigns  into  the  town.  As  the 
frigate  was  becalmed  and  within  gun-shot  the  natives 
were  incensed  with  the  Commander  of  the  shore  battery 
for  not  opening  fire,  and  it  was  not  until  they  threatened 
to  do  it  themselves  that  the  Frenchman  lired  his  first 
shot.  This  was  evidently  not  intended  to  be  effective, 
nor  did  those  on  board  the  frigate  take  the  least  notice 
of  it  ;  but  after  more  threats  from  the  natives  the 
commander  fired  in  earnest,  with  the  result  that  the 
ship's  bowsprit  was  carried  away. 

They  then  observed  a  commotion  on  board  and  that 
the  crew  were  lowering  boats.  Some  felt  it  was  time  to 
move  off;  but  to  their  surprise  the  boats  instead  of 
making  for  the  shore  were  used  to  tow  the  becalmed 
frigate  beyond  the  range  of  the  guns  of  the  fort.  They 
were  still  more  relieved  when  later  on  she  sailed  away. 

During  two  months  the  people  of  Bordighera  were 
inflated    by    a    sense    of   victory    and    might    still    have 

231 


AN   ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

boasted  of  their  defeat  of  an  English  fleet  had  not  this 
frigate  turned  up  again  and  accompanied  this  time  by 
two  others.  They  awaited  no  invitation  to  open  fire  on 
the  fort,  and  having  silenced  it  a  hundred  sailors  and 
marines  manned  the  boats  and  rowed  to  shore.  A 
bloodless  fight  took  place  near  the  battery,  after  which 
the  commander  and  his  men  were  safely  put  under  lock 
and  key.  The  Sindic,  a  certain  Signor  Garibaldi,  was 
put  under  arrest  and  conveyed  to  the  frigate,  where  to 
his  surprise  no  other  punishment  awaited  him  than  a 
good  lunch  with  enough  wine  to  make  him  tipsy.  He 
was  then  sent  back  with  the  keys  to  unlock  the 
imprisoned  Commander,  and  the  three  warships  sailed 
away.  Thus   ended,"    says    Dr.    Ruffini,     '  the    war 

between  Great  Britain  and  Bordighera." 


2^2 


CHAPTER  XXI 

VENTIMIGLIA  AND  LA  MORTOLA 

THREE  miles  beyond  palm-bedecked  Bordighera  we 
reach  the  frontier  town  of  Ventimiglia.  Most 
people  are  too  much  concerned  with  getting 
their  luggage  through  the  customs  to  give  a  thought  to 
the  picturesque  and  interesting  town  which  stands  on 
the  hill  overlooking  the  ugly  railway  station.  The  rush 
to  get  the  luggage  examined  and  to  get  it  corded  and 
sealed  should  the  passenger  be  leaving  France  and 
entering  Italy  might  be  avoided  by  taking  an  earlier 
train  to  the  frontier  and  continuing  the  journey  by 
another  later  than  the  one  in  connection.  By  these 
means  we  can  attend  to  the  necessary  formalities  after 
the  bulk  of  the  passengers  have  left,  and  time  enough 
is  also  available  to  see  what  Ventimiglia  has  to  show. 

Whether  we  come  here  from  the  fashionable  resorts 
on  the  French  side  or  whether  we  be  on  our  way  there 
from  modernized  San  Remo  we  cannot  help  bemg 
struck  by  the  old-world  appearance  of  Ventimiglia.  No 
attempts  are  made  to  induce  foreigners  to  winter  here, 
and   the   old   town   goes   its   own  sleepy   way   as   it   the 

233 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Riviera  liad  never  been  discovered  by  tbe  hibernal 
tourists.  The  modern  buildings  which  always  crop  up 
around  a  busy  station  we  treat  as  if  they  didn't  exist. 
The  very  thing  which  gives  the  town  its  chief  beauty  is 
what  makes  it  unsuitable  for  a  winter  resort,  and  that  is 
the  broad  valley  of  the  Roya  from  which  the  town  rises. 
The  waters  of  this  river,  unlike  most  others  on  this 
coast,  flow  winter  and  summer  ;  they  keep  the  place 
cool  during  the  hot  months,  but  in  winter  the  valley 
serves  as  a  tunnel  for  the  snow-chilled  winds  from  the 
north.  We  have  only  to  stand  on  its  many-arched 
bridge  to  look  into  the  heart  of  the  Ligurian  Alps.  It 
is  a  beautiful  sight  :  each  successive  height  crowned  with 
a  village  or  tower  till  we  lose  them  in  the  blue  mists 
that  hang  beneath  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Col  di  Tenda. 

Many  historians  maintain  that  Hannibal  chose  this 
route   when   he   made  his  famous  passage  of  the  Alps. 

We  may  consider  this  as  certain,"  says  Frederick  F. 
Hamilton,  that  at  any  rate  one  division  of  the  Cartha- 
ginian army,  if  not  Hannibal  himself,  passed  by  the 
valley  of  the  Tenda." 

There  was  a  flourishing  Roman  station  at  Ventimiglia 
in  the  time  of  Augustus,  from  which  period  dates  the 
ruined  amphitheatre.  The  conspicuous  ruin  on  the 
hiU  above  the  town  is  still  called  the  Castel  d'  Appio, 
and  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  the  Roman  Consul 
Appius  Claudius  during  the  time  of  the  Republic.  The 
cathedral  stands  on  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Juno  and 
the  church  of  S.  Michael  on  one  dedicated  to  Castor 
234 


VENTIMIGLIA  AND   LA  MORTOLA 

and  Pollux.  They  are  both  very  early  churches  ;  but, 
spoilt  like  so  many,  they  have  been  ruined  by  so-called 
improvements. 

The  early  medieval  history  of  the  town  is  one  long 
struggle  against  the  rapacity  of  Genoa,  to  which  it 
succumbed  in  1239.  After  that  it  followed  the 
fortunes  and  was  subject  to  the  vicissitudes  of  most  of 
the  towns  we  have  mentioned.  Some  events  which 
took  place  in  the  eighteenth  century  may  be  of  interest 
to  some  ot  my  readers.  It  may  well  be  asked  how  the 
cutting  off  of  an  English  sailor's  ear  by  a  Spaniard,  in 
the  Gult  ot  Florida,  could  affect  the  tranquillity  of  the 
coast  of  Liguria  and  Ventimiglia  in  particular.  Every- 
one has  heard  of  Jenkins'  ear  and  how  it  led  to 
England's  going  to  war  with  Spain,  as  well  as  incurring 
the  hostility  of  France.  The  story  is  too  long  to  go 
into  Its  details  except  such  as  refer  to  Ventimiglia. 
England's  alliance  with  the  King  of  Sardinia  was  the 
cause  of  a  British  fleet  being  ordered  to  blockade  the 
ports  of  the  Western  Riviera  so  as  to  prevent  Spain 
from  advancing  into  Piedmont  as  well  as  to  prevent 
the  Genoese  coast  towns  from  provisioning  the  Spanish 
ships.  Why  these  towns  should  have  sympathized 
with  Spain  rather  than  with  their  Italian  neighbours 
is  hard  to  explain.  But  it  is  certain  that  stores  were 
collected  in  them  to  help  Spain's  necessity.  Admiral 
Mathews  was  informed  that  a  vast  quantity  ol  straw 
and  grain  had  been  accumulated  by  Spanish  agents 
in    Ventimiglia ;    he    therefore    sent  a   message   to   the 

235 


AN  ARTIST   IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Governor  ordering  him  either  to  deliver  these  goods 
or  see  that  they  were  destroyed,  and  on  the 
Governor's  refusal  a  detachment  of  blue-jackets  and 
marines  was  landed.  Although  the  Governor  had 
refused  to  comply  with  Mathew's  orders  he  appears  to 
have  made  no  opposition  to  the  landing  force,  and  after 
the  latter  had  destroyed  the  stores  the  whole  party  were 
entertained  at  lunch  at  the  Government  house,  where 
the  health  of  his  Majesty  King  George,  coupled  with 
that  of  the  Doge  of  Genoa,  was  drunk  with 
acclamation. 

Frederick  Fitzroy  Hamilton,  who  gives  us  a  long 
account  of  these  operations,  ends  by  saying  :—  Such 
then  are  the  details  of  this  very  unromantic  and  harmless 
operation,  where  no  life  was  lost,  where  no  gun  was 
fired,  but  which  local  tradition,  with  the  marvellous 
magnifying  propensities  peculiar  to  it  all  over  the  world, 
now  refers  to  as  a  bombardment  mid  a  sacky  This 
took  place  on  the  31st  of  August,   1742. 

Ventimiglia  has  only  been  the  frontier  town  since 
i860,  when  the  province  of  Nice,  with  that  of  Savoy, 
was  reluctantly  handed  over  to  France  as  the  price 
demanded  by  Napoleon  HI.  for  his  help  to  Italy  in  its 
struggles  with  Austria.  The  actual  frontier  is  four  miles 
west  of  the  town.  When  we  cross  the  Pont  S.  Louis 
we  step  into  what  is  politically  France,  and  until  we 
reach  Nice  we  observe  a  French  veneer  in  the 
intermediate  towns.  But  physically  and  ethnologically 
it  is  Italy  until  we  leave  Nice  behind  us.  Mentone 
236 


Vont  St.  Louis 


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VENTIMIGLIA  AND  LA  MORTOLA 

becomes  Menton,  Monte  Carlo  is  changed  to  Monte 
Carle,  Villa  Franca  to  Villefranche,  and  so  on  till  we 
hardly  recognize  the  Italian  Nizza  in  the  present  Nice. 
Except  the  last  named  we  still  keep  to  the  Italian  forms, 
and  the  Germans  do  so  even  in  this  case.  The 
educated  speak  French,  but  the  working-classes  speak  a 
patois  very  similar  to  that  beyond  the  frontier.  Official 
France  is,  however,  felt  at  once  as  soon  as  we  cross  the 
Pont  S.  Louis  ;  we  also  evidence  the  greater  prosperity 
which  France  enjoys,  whether  it  be  in  the  upkeep  of 
the  roads,  the  dwellings,  or  the  dress  of  the  people. 

The  village  we  last  see  on  Italian  soil  is  La  Mortola. 
We  have  met  that  sinister  name  before  on  the 
promontory  of  Portofino  ;  its  origin  being  most  probably 
the  same  in  both  places.  Sepulchral  remains  are  still 
dug  up  in  the  gardens,  by  which  the  late  Sir  Thomas 
Hanbury  has  made  this  spot  famous  throughout  the 
Two  Rivieras,  as  well  as  the  goal  of  everyone  who  takes 
a  keen  interest  in  horticulture.  The  railroad  happily 
does  not  disfigure  these  beautiful  gardens,  as  it  runs 
through  a  tunnel  beneath  them.  They  are  reached 
from  Mentone  by  the  Cor  niche  road,  and  are  only 
about  two  miles  distant  from  the  centre  of  that  town. 
The  public  are  admitted  on  Monday  and  Friday 
afternoons  by  simply  writing  their  names  in  a  visitors' 
book  and  giving  a  franc  towards  a  local  charity.  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  have  been  shown  over  the 
house  and   gardens   by   Sir  Thomas   Hanbury  during  a 

former  visit  to  Mentone. 

237 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

The  house  was  known  as  the  Villa  Orengo  until  Sir 
Thomas  purchased  it  from  that  family  who  had  bought 
it  in  1620  from  the  last  surviving  member  of  the 
Lautan  of  Ventimiglia.  The  oldest  part,  now  mostly 
hid  by  modern  additions,  dates  from  the  latter  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  Few  villas  are  in  a  finer 
position,  placed  as  it  is  on  a  promontory  in  the  centre 
of  the  shallow  bay  with  Cap  Martin  and  the  headland 
of  Bordighera  at  the  two  extremities.  On  a  rock 
foundation  of  sixty  acres  we  find  4,500  different 
specimens  of  plants,  many  shrubs  and  trees  growing 
here  in  the  wildest  luxuriance  which  at  Kew  would 
require  every  possible  care  and  protection.  La  Mortola 
is  not  merely  interesting  as  a  botanical  garden,  but  has 
been  planned  and  laid  out  with  considerable  artistic 
knowledge.  Its  principal  feature  is  the  pergola,  which 
curves  round  the  slopes  of  the  hill  and  leads  the  eye  to 
the  villa  relieved  against  sea  and  sky  and  distant  coast. 
The  profusion  of  plants,  flowering  shrubs  and  specimen 
trees  contrasts  strangely  with  the  bare  rock  which  in 
places  rises  sheer  from  their  midst. 

Dr.  Hugh  Macmillan,  who  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  these  gardens,  writes  in  his       Western   Riviera  : 

From  Australia  and  China,  from  Japan  and  Africa, 
from  North  and  South  America  and  India,  from  every 
quarter  of  the  globe  whose  climate  is  at  all  similar  to 
that  of  this  favoured  spot,  a  vast  variety  of  the  most 
interesting  and  remarkable  plants  have  been  brought 
together  with  infinite  labour  and  skill  ;  and  they  impart 
238 


VENTIMIGLIA  AND   LA  MQRTOLA 

to  the  new  home  in  which  they  are  acdimatized  an 
appearance  so  novel  and  curious  that  the  first  teehng  in 
the  mind  of  every  visitor  is  one  ot  absolute  bewilder- 
ment. Splendid  date-palms  grow  side  by  side  with  loity 
Australian  acacias  and  eucalypti.  The  grandest  agaves 
in  Europe,  with  leaves  seven  feet  in  length,  sending  up 
huge  green  candelabra  of  hundreds  ot  flowers  for  thirty 
feet,  form  a  litde  forest  beside  the  marble  terrace  ot  the 
house  facing  the  sea.  At  the  entrance  gates  large 
casuarinas,  the  she-oak  ot  Australia,  stand  sentinel,  with 
long  drooping  needle-like  leaves  presenting  a  superficial 
resemblance  to  some  antique  pine-trees,  but  when  closely 
examined  repeating  the  old-world  pattern  down  to  the 
minutest  detail  of  the  common  equisetum,  or  horse-tail, 
of  our  own  waste  places.  When  the  breeze  blows 
through  its  pendulous  branches  it  produces  a  peculiar 
low  melancholy  wail  suggestive  of  the  wild  corrobary," 
unlike  the  wind-drawn  sound  ot  any  other  tree. 
Enormous  spindle-shaped  heads  or  maces  ot  blue 
echium-blossoms  arrest  the  astonished  visitor  on  the 
terraced  walks.  Broad-leaved  cannas  drink  in  the  sun- 
shine at  every  pore,  and  the  grand  foliage  and  huge 
dark  crimson,  strong-smelling  spikes  ot  the  melianthus 
cast  a  deep  shadow  over  the  walks  ;  while  great  leafless 
euphorbias  rise  up  from  the  tangled  mass  ot  vegetation 
like  church  spires,  and  the  arborescent  composite  kleinia 
unfolds  its  daisy-like  blooms  as  luxuriously  as  on  its 
native  trachyte  at  Teneriffe." 

With   this  description   of  La  Mortola,  written  with  a 

239 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

tropical  luxuriance  suggestive  of  the  subject,  we  take  our 
leave  of  Italy  and  enter  the  French  province  of  Nice, 
which  but  for  Italy's  necessity  should  have  remained 
Italy  still.  It  is  a  sad  fatality  that  the  price  Italy  paid 
to  France  for  her  assistance  should  have  been  Nice,  the 
birthplace  of  Garibaldi,  and  Savoy,  the  home  of  Victor 
Emmanuel. 


240 


Mentone,  from   CaraVan 


nD^SotoO   mo-^X  .snoinaVi 


CHAPTER    XXII 

MENTONE    AND    MONTE    CARLO 

THE  mountains,  which  shelter  the  coast  towns 
between  the  Italian  frontier  and  Nice,  are  higher 
and  bolder  in  outline  than  any  we  have  so  far 
seen.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  grander  and  more  rugged 
setting  these  towns  have  a  tame  and  prosaic  appearance 
compared  to  those  on  the  Italian  coast.  They  are  also 
much  closer  to  each  other  than  the  latter  ;  the  last  hotel 
or  pension  of  one  almost  shoulders  the  first  of  its 
neighbour.  Thus  there  is  hardly  a  spot  on  the  coast  of 
the  province  of  Nice  where  nature  has  not  been  subdued 
to  man's  requirements,  and  this,  to  all  appearance, 
within  memory  of  man. 

The  torrent  of  St.  Louis,  separating  the  two  frontiers, 
receives  near  its  mouth  the  refuse  from  an  Italian 
podere,  on  the  one  side,  while  from  its  opposite  bank 
rises  the  sustaining  wall  of  a  smartly  kept  villa  garden. 
The  humble  podere  probably  belonged  to  the  peasant, 
who  struggled  to  keep  himself  and  family  on  what  this 
rough  plot  of  land  could  produce,  while  the  French  villa 
may  have  been  built  by  a  speculative  Swiss  hotel-keeper 
i6  241 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

to  let  to  a  Hamburg  merchant.  The  two  banks  of  the 
stream  are  to  a  great  extent  characteristic  of  the  French 
Cote  d'Azur  and  the  Italian  Riviera.  The  one  let  or 
sold  to  the  highest  bidder  ;  the  other  still  inhabited  by 
those  who  live  chiefly  by  what  they  can  raise  on  the  hill- 
terraces  or  fish  out  of  the  Mediterranean.  Doubtless 
the  French  have  turned  their  beautiful  coast  to  better 
pecuniary  advantage  than  the  Italians  ;  but  at  the  price 
of  the  picturesque  and  much  ol  its  former  poetic 
charm. 

We  must  go  inland  to  find  the  hill-towns  which  still 
remind  us  of  the  past.  A  part  of  old  Mentone  still 
exists,  but  like  an  excrescence  that  has  burst  through 
the  French  veneer  overlaying  the  lower  portions  now 
hardly  distinguishable  from  the  new  town.  If, 
however,  we  turn  our  backs  on  the  four  miles  of  hotels 
and  villas  which  line  the  shore,  and  we  walk  up  to 
Castillar  or  climb  to  that  eagle's  eyrie,  CastilHon, 
nothing  is  visible  except  a  few  French  sign-boards  to 
remind  us  that  we  are  no  more  on  Italian  soil. 

Although  these  brand  new  sea-side  resorts  make  little 
appeal  to  me,  I  can  quite  understand  the  increasing 
popularity  of  Mentone.  Few  places  short  of  Egypt  are 
as  free  from  the  discomforts  of  winter.  The  north-west 
wind— the  dreaded  mistral  of  the  Marseillais — which 
often  sweeps  down  the  streets  of  Cannes,  and  is 
unpleasantly  felt  at  Nice,  is  cut  ofT  from  Mentone  by 
the  range  of  Alps  behind  it,  and  can  often  be  seen 
lashing  the  sea  some  miles  off  the  coast  while  hardly  a 
242 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 


ripple  stirs  the  water  close  to  the  shore.  The  town  is 
kept  scrupulously  clean,  and  is  also  well-planned, 
allowing  the  utmost  number  of  its  pasteboard-looking 
houses  to  overlook  the  sea.  The  huge  hotels,  though 
ugly  in  themselves,  are  in  part  hid  by  masses  of  evergreen 
trees,  and  their  garden  terraces  are  ablaze  with  flowers. 
The  town  council  is  also  more  alert  in  supplying 
entertainments  ror  its  winter  guests  than  in  similar 
resorts  in  Italy,  and  offers  greater  facilities  for  excursions 
to  the  interesting  places  in  its  hinterland.  In  short, 
Mentone  is  a  bright  and  cheery-looking  place,  and  is  as 
favourably  situated  as  any  resort  on  the  Riviera. 

I  put  up  at  the  "  Turin,"  a  comfortable  hotel,  where 
I  had  spent  a  couple  of  months  on  a  previous  visit.  Its 
view  of  the  sea  being  impeded  by  other  buildings  acts 
very  favourably  in  the  reduction  of  its  terms,  and  as  I 
prefer  a  north  aspect  while  painting  indoors  my  rooms 
rarely  faced  the  sea  while  on  the  south  coast.  In 
fairness  to  the  hotel  I  wish  to  state  that  nearly  every 
room  except  my  temporary  studio  faced  due  south,  a 
matter  of  great  importance  to  any  who  winter  on  this 
coast  for  the  sake  of  their  health. 

The  proximity  of  this  hotel  to  the  flower  market  was, 

however,    its    chief  attraction    during    my    former    visit. 

The    stalls   laden    every    morning    with    freshly   gathered 

anemones,  ranuncuH  and  carnations,  with  dew-bedecked 

clusters    of  roses,    or    with    flaming    masses    of  peonies, 

present  a  galaxy  of  colour  all  the  more  appreciable  after 

a  course  of  architectural  studies  in  the  sombre  greyness 
i6* 


243 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

of  the  old  towns.  Should  we  wish  a  harmony  in  shades 
of  gold,  we  turn  to  the  fruit  stalls  ;  here  oranges  and 
lemons,  apples  and  pears  have  their  rich  colours  set  off 
by  the  more  modest  hues  of  the  baskets  and  matting. 
The  covered  market  is  an  ugly  structure  in  itself,  but  it 
subdues  the  light  sufficiently  to  bring  the  richness  of  the 
colour  we  see  within  the  range  of  the  pallet. 

The  crowds  who  assemble  here  to  get  the  first  choice 
of  flowers,  fruits  or  vegetables  add  to  the  picturesqueness 
of  the  scene,  though  they  add  greatly  to  the  difficulties 
an  artist  has  to  contend  with.  While  one's  view  is 
blocked  out  by  a  bargaining  housewife  one  remains  in 
an  agony  of  suspense  lest  she  should  pick  on  a  group 
of  flowers  just  drawn  in.  Even  if  these  be  secured 
to  the  artist  by  purchase,  someone  may  pick  them  up 
and  throw  them  down  in  another  place  when  told  that 
they  are  not  for  sale.  In  some  cases  I  ingratiated  myself 
with  the  keeper  of  the  opposite  stall  and  would  be 
allowed  to  paint  that  of  her  neighbour  from  where  she 
usually  sat,  her  baskets  forming  a  barricade  between  me 
and  the  inquisitive  people,  from  whom  one  is  seldom 
free,  and  also  preventing  the  danger  of  being  told  to 
move  on  so  as  not  to  cause  an  obstruction. 

The  stall-holders  seemed  pleased  to  have  their  goods 
painted,  and  when  they  heard  that  the  drawings  were  to 
be  exhibited  in  London  they  were  anxious  that  their 
names  should  not  be  omitted.  They  were  all  very  civil 
and  tried  to  make  it  easy  for  me.  But  business  is 
business,  and  if  a  customer  should  walk  off  with  a  bunch 
244 


Flower  Stall  in  Mentone  Market 


iet  off 
but  it 


choice 
ucness 
culties 


group 

Stall 

■  nc 
cldom 
)ld  to 

.:ir  goods 

iheir 

■vil 

is 

)unch 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 

of  roses  I  had  just  begun,  "  Qiie  voulez-vous  ?  "  and  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  was  all  the  consolation  they  could 
ofFer. 

These  drawings  are  now  all  dispersed.  I  was  honoured 
by  the  one  given  as  an  illustration  being  purchased  by 
Her  Majesty  the  Qiieen,  then  Her  Royal  Highness  the 
Princess  of  Wales,  and  through  her  graciousness  in  lend- 
ing it  to  me  I  am  enabled  to  reproduce  it  in  this  book. 

Though  Mentone  has  been  in  existence  since  the 
early  Middle  Ages  it  has  little  that  is  reminiscent  of  its 
early  history  to  show.  It  is  known  that  its  neighbour 
Roquebrune,  as  well  as  the  towns  of  La  Turbie  and  Eze, 
were  held  and  fortified  by  the  Saracens  as  far  back  as 
the  ninth  century  ;  so  it  is  presumable  that  Mentone  was 
then  also  under  their  dominion.  Aher  the  expulsion  of 
the  invaders  by  William,  Viscount  of  Marseilles,  and 
Gibalin  Grimaldi,  this  district  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  Lascaris,  counts  of  Ventimiglia,  and  later  became 
the  property  of  the  Genoese  family  oi  Vento.  In  1346 
the  latter  family  sold  it  together  with  Roquebrune  to 
Charles  Grimaldi,  the  first  Lord  of  Monaco,  and  as  a 
part  of  that  principality  it  remained  until  the  French 
Revolution,  when  it  was  annexed  to  France.  The  inter- 
vening period  presents  the  usual  story  of  fights  with  their 
neighbours  and  faction  riots  to  keep  up  the  excitement 
while  the  neighbours  kept  quiet,  and  what  may  have 
been  left  of  Mentone  after  these  vicissitudes  was  com- 
pletely destroyed  by  the  Barbary  corsairs  during  the 
course  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

245 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

After  the  fall  of  Napoleon  the  principality  of  Monaco 
was  restored  to  the  Grimaldi  family  in  i  8  1 4  ;  but  such 
were  the  exactions  of  Honore  V.,  the  reigning  prince,  as 
well  as  those  of  his  son  and  successor,  Florestin  I.,  that 
Roquebrune  and  Mentone  rebelled  and  succeeded  in 
forming  a  free  state  under  the  protection  of  the  King  of 
Sardinia.  For  twelve  years  these  two  dissimilar  towns 
with  the  intervening  strip  of  land  were  more  or  less  an 
independent  republic,  and  only  became  a  part  of  France 
when  Victor  Emmanuel  ceded  Nice  to  that  country  in 
i860.  The  Grimaldi,  who  still  reign  at  Monaco,  were 
compensated  for  their  rights  in  this  little  Republic,  which 
had  seceded  from  them  twelve  years  since,  by  the 
handsome  sum  of  four  million  francs. 

Dr.  D.  W.  Samways,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for 
these  particulars,  has  given  us  a  handy  guide  to  Mentone 
which  anyone  intending  to  winter  there,  whether  for  his 
health  or  for  pleasure,  should  not  fail  to  get. 

The  distress  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Principality  of 
Monaco  during  the  first  halt  ot  the  nineteenth  century 
contrasts  strangely  with  its  present  prosperity.  I  will 
quote  what  Dr.  Samways  tells  us  about  it  in  his  excellent 
little  book  : 

"From  18 1 5  to  1841  the  Principality  of  Monaco 
— then  including  Monaco,  Mentone  and  Roquebrune — 
was  delivered  up  to  the  arbitrary  and  cruel  extortions  of 
its  ruler,  Honore  V.  This  prince  lived  constantly  at 
Paris,  and  appears  to  have  set  foot  three  times  only  in 
his  southern  estates  during  the  whole  of  his  reign.  In 
246 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 

the  absence  of  modern  facilities  for  distributing  informa- 
tion he  was  able  to  pose  in  the  north  as  somewhat  of  a 
philanthropist,  whilst  living  on  money  obtained  by  the 
most  refined  and  brutal  extortions  in  the  south.  Honore, 
who  was  not  without  ability,  showed  his  interest  in 
matters  affecting  the  people  by  publishing  an  essay 
entitled,  Poverty  in  France  and  its  Cure,'  and  later 
on  chose  as  the  epitaph  on  his  tomb,  '  Ci  git  qui  voulut 
le  bien  '  ;  but  the  philanthropy  which  always  sacrifices 
others  for  oneself  requires  the  devil  for  an  apologist.  If 
Honore  V.  meant  well  his  acts  deserve  the  greater 
censure,  for  a  blunderer  is  worse  than  a  knave  in  high 
places,  and  to  his  epitaph  might  well  be  added,  as  a 
Mentonais  suggested,     Sans  I'avoir  jamais  fait.'  " 

We  are  then  given  the  various  means  he  and  his 
agents  employed  for  draining  his  subjects  ot  every  avail- 
able penny.  '  By  such  a  process  ot  ingenious  squeezing 
and  oppression  Honore  V.  extorted  an  annual  revenue 
of  320,000  francs  from  the  small  and  humble  popula- 
tion of  five  or  six  thousand  persons  then  inhabiting  his 
little  territory."  The  hopes  they  may  have  had  in  the 
son   and   heir   were   soon   dispelled.  When    in    1841 

Honore  died  and  was  succeeded  by  Florestin  I.  the 
people  were  still  subjected  to  the  former  philanthropic  ' 
oppressions,  to  which  was  now  added  the  obligation  of 
having  all  olives  sold  only  by  him." 

The    Mentonais   seem  prosperous  enough  at  present, 

though  how  the  people  of  Roquebrune  make  a  living  in 

and   around    their    rock-bound    village    is    hard    to    say. 

247 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

But  the  money  which  now  flows  into  the  Principality  of 
Monaco    is    the    envy    of  all    the    neighbouring    towns, 
God  grant  that  they  may  find  a  more  reputable  way  of 
filling  their  coffers ! 

The  means  used  by  Charles  III.  (the  successor  to 
Florestin)  to  enrich  himself  were  even  worse  than  those 
of  his  forefathers.  Succeeding  to  a  Principality  in 
which  every  source  of  revenue  had  been  dried  through 
former  exactions,  this  prince  hit  upon  the  idea  of 
establishing  a  gaming-table  in  a  room  adjoining  his 
palace.  The  inaccessibility  of  Monaco  telling  against 
its  immediate  success,  he  leased  the  concession  to  others  ; 
but  it  was  not  until  1863,  when  the  gaming-tables  at 
Homburg  were  closed,  that  this  became  a  paying 
concern.  M.  Blanc  saw  the  possibilities  of  Monaco 
being  able  to  supply  a  want  no  more  to  be  satisfied  at 
Homburg  ;  and  being  a  man  of  energy  and  capital  he 
made  Charles'  concessionaires  the  handsome  offer  of 
^68,000  for  their  rights.  On  the  acceptance  of  his 
terms  he  at  once  proceeded  to  float  a  company  known 
as  La  Societe  anonyme  des  Bains  de  Mer  et  Cercle  des 
Etrangers  a  Monaco."  Prospectuses  were  sent  out  on 
All  Fools'  Day,  1863,  and  in  a  short  time  30,000 
twenty-pound  shares  were  bought  up.  One  of  the  first 
to  take  shares  in  this  "  Bathing  Establishment  "  was 
Cardinal  Pecci,  afterwards  Pope  Leo  XIII.  With  this 
capital  of  ;^6oo,ooo  the  now  famous  Casino  was 
erected  on   the   rocky    promontory  then   known   as  Les 

Speluges,  and  since  called  Monte  Carlo  in  honour  of  the 

248 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 

reigning  prince.  After  the  death  of  M.  Blanc  in  i  8  8  i 
it  was  resolved  to  double  the  capital,  the  bulk  of  the 
shares  being  taken  up  by  the  heirs  of  the  promoter. 
The  Casino  was  enlarged  and  its  attractions  were  widely 
advertised  ;  and  such  was  the  success  of  the  venture 
that  the  shares  rose  almost  immediately  to  ten  times 
their  original  price. 

In  half  a  century  Les  Speluges,  the  rocks,  which 
hardly  furnished  a  bite  for  a  famished  goat,  have 
become  the  most  fashionable  winter  resort  in  Europe. 

The  concession  to  M.  Blanc  being  only  for  fifty  years 
the  present  Prince  Albert  was  enabled  to  make  almost 
any  terms  he  liked  for  an  extension.  In  1898  the 
company  after  much  bargaining  agreed  to  a  fresh  lease, 
extending  to  1947,  which  makes  it  liable  to  an 
increasing  rent  till  it  reaches,  in  1937,  the  enormous  sum 
of  ^100,000  per  annum.  Without  wishing  to  enter 
into  details  as  to  the  profits  of  this  concern  some  idea 
of  them  may  be  gained  by  the  sums  it  pays  in  what  it 
calls  publicit'e,  in  other  words  hush-money,  to  newspapers 
to  suppress  hostile  criticism  ;  in  one  year  alone  this 
amounted  to  ;/^40,ooo.  Occasionally  we  hear  of  some 
poor  creature  who,  after  losing  all  he  has,  puts  an  end 
to  himself  ;  but  never  a  word  leaks  out  in  any  of  the 
papers.  A  hurried  inquest  followed  by  a  death-certificate 
of  heart-failure,  and  all  traces  of  the  suicide  disappear. 
The  fear  of  exposure  is  so  great  that  a  player  has  only 
to  complain  that  he  has  lost  all  he  possesses,  to  be 
furnished  by  the  company  with  the  means  to  return  to 

249 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

his  home  or  to  any  distance  that  he  likes  so  that  the 
further  away  he  may  blow  his  brains  out  the  better.  I 
met  a  German  at  Nice  quite  recently  who  told  me  that 
a  friend  of  his  had  obtained  a  railway  ticket  back  to  his 
home  in  Germany  by  making  a  false  statement  that  he 
had  lost  all  his  money  at  the  tables ;  my  informant  then 
calmly  stated  that  he  intended  making  a  similar 
application.  How  are  they  to  know  whether   I   have 

lost  or  not  ?  "  was  a  question  he  asked,  which  1  leave  to 
him  and  his  fellow  sharpers  to  answer. 

The  demoralizing  effect  of  the  tables  is  seen  every- 
where, do  what  the  authorities  will  to  keep  them  in 
the  background.  Prostitutes  and  dissipated  blackguards 
are  welcome  as  long  as  they  are  well-dressed  and  spend 
their  winnings  in  the  place  ;  while  1  have  seen  a 
respectable-looking  clergyman  refused  entrance  to  the 
Casino  because  his  boots  were  not  sufficiently  blacked. 
Possibly  he  only  wished,  as  I  did,  to  witness  the  play 
and  take  no  part  in  it.  I  can  assure  him  that  it  is 
neither  a  pleasant  nor  an  elevating  sight.  A  modern 
Dante  could  alone  describe  adequately  the  look  of  selfish 
greed  of  the  habitue  or  the  hopeless  expression  of  the 
poor  fools  who  spend  their  days  taking  note  of  the 
winning  numbers  so  as  to  work  out  a  system."  By 
what  system  can  any  sane  person  expect  to  win  in  a 
game  in  which  every  stake  has  odds  in  favour  of  the 
bank  .?  The  odds,  roughly  1.66  per  cent.,  against  him 
are  not  high,   I  admit  ;   but  where  the  stakes  follow  in 

rapid  succession  the  accumulation  of  these  odds  is  bound 

250 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 

to   tell   against   the    player.      Mr.   Baring-Gould,   in   his 
book  on  the  Riviera,  puts  the  case  very  concisely  : 

If  you  go  into  the  stock-market  and  buy  the  first 
stock  your  eye  happens  to  catch  on  the  list  you  at  least 
stand  an  even  chance  ot  its  going  up  and  down,  while 
your  brokerage  and  stamp  charges  will  not  amount  to  the 
1.66  per  cent,  charged  as  brokerage  by  the  Casino; 
whereas  in  the  stock-market  the  action  will  be  compara- 
tively slow  at  Monte  Carlo  the  brokerage  charge  is 
approximately  1.66  per  minute.  If  fifty  coups  are 
played  per  hour  it  means  that  as  brokerage  the  bank 
each  hour  absorbs  83  per  cent,  ot  all  the  money  staked 
tor  one  coup,  while  each  day  the  bank  takes  tor  its 
commission  tor  permitting  you  to  play  there  about  ten 
times  the  average  amount  staked  on  the  table  at  any 
one  time." 

M.  Blanc  spoke  truly  when  he  pointed  out  to  the 
shareholders  :  Le    rouge   gagne   quelquetois,    le    noir 

gagne  quelquetois,  le  hlanc  toujours." 

A  friend  described  to  me  a  scene  he  witnessed  some 
years  ago  at  these  tables.  During  a  crowded  seance  he 
and  his  fellow  gamblers  were  surprised  to  see  an  old 
man  ot  the  lower  middle  class  approach  the  table  and 
with  a  trembling  hand  empty  the  gold  pieces  trom  a 
little  sack  he  carried  on  to  the  red.  The  croupier  spun 
the  roulette,  calling  his  monotonous  "  Faites  votre  jeu, 
messieurs  "  ;  then  as  the  pellet  ceased  to  circle  round,  his 

Rien  ne  va  plus  "  heralded  the  fatal  moment  when 
the    pellet    finds    its    resting-place.  ,    No    sooner    had    it 

251 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

stopped  in  a  black  partition  than  the  old  man  reached 
forward  and  grabbed  up  his  stake,  calling  out,  C'est  la 
dot  de  ma  fille  !  C'est  la  dot  de  ma  fille  !  "  Several 
assistants  seized  hold  of  him  and  tried  to  make  him 
give  up  the  money  he  had  lost.  His  piteous  cries  to 
spare  his  daughter's  dowry  moved  the  other  players, 
who  with  a  generosity,  at  the  expense  of  the  tables, 
insisted  on  the  old  man  being  allowed  to  depart  with  his 
money.  Rather  than  provoke  a  scandal  the  manage- 
ment thought  it  as  well  to  see  him  and  his  little  sack 
safely  off  the  premises. 

Much  has  been  written  by  disappointed  players  to  try 
and  prove  that  by  cheating  and  trickery  the  company 
are  enabled  to  pay  their  huge  dividends.  Their  proofs 
are  as  futile  as  the  "  systems  "  we  continually  hear 
discussed.  Why  should  they  cheat  and  risk  the  exposure 
which  one  of  their  many  officials  might  easily  be  bribed 
to  make  }  With  the  odds  in  their  favour  on  a  rapid 
turnover  they  can  calculate  on  an  enormous  annual 
profit  without  taking  the  risks  which  any  trickery  would 
entail. 

To  foul  their  nest  as  little  as  possible  no  subjects  of 
the  Prince  are  allowed  to  enter  the  Casino,  and  this  also 
applies  to  any  known  residents  in  the  neighbouring 
towns.  I  have  heard  no  complaints  on  that  score ; 
the  attraction  of  the  tables  brings  too  much  custom 
to  the  hotel-keepers  and  tradesmen  for  them  to 
raise  any  objections  to  their  being  prevented  from 
losing  their  money.  Besides  this  the  subjects  of 
252 


MENTONE  AND  MONTE  CARLO 

the    Prince    pay    no    rates    or    taxes,    these    being    all 
defrayed   by   the   company. 

The  Casino  was  designed  by  Garnies,  the  architect  of 
the  Paris  Opera  House  ;  no  money  has  been  spared  on 
its  lavish  decoration  ;  the  gorgeousness  of  its  spacious 
halls  fills  the  bourgeois  mind  with  awe.  But  what  is 
the  result  }  The  same  as  in  every  case  where  lavish 
expenditure  exceeds  good  taste  and  only  accentuates  its 
vulgarity.  I  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  place  after  my 
first  and  only  visit,  and,  although  I  did  not  play,  a 
horrible  fascination  held  me  there.  I  felt  like  a 
disembodied  spirit  amongst  the  lost  souls  in  the  Inferno. 
The  men  who  sat  round  the  tables  expressed  no  sign  of 
happiness  when  they  won,  and  only  a  look  of  hatred 
when  they  lost,  nor  did  a  smile  lighten  the  painted  faces 
of  the  women  ;  a  covetous  glance  at  one  more  favoured 
by  chance  than  they,  would  occasionally  break  for  a 
moment  the  spell  the  roulette  had  cast  on  them  all. 
Many  who  stood  and  watched  the  proceedings  with  an 
amused  interest  at  first  gradually  fell  under  the  spell ;  a 
five -franc  piece  jauntily  thrown  on  to  the  green  cloth  was 
soon  followed  by  others.  The  losers  would  risk  a 
second  on  the  chance  of  recovering  the  first,  and  in 
some  cases  they  would  leave  after  the  limit  they  had  set 
to  their  possible  losses  had  been  reached.  These  were 
only  partially  under  the  spell,  and  there  was  hope  that 
their  comparatively  trifling  losses  would  release  them 
from  it  when  the  fresh  air  and  more  wholesome 
entertainments    had    done    their    work.      The    beginner 

253 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

who  wins  is  in  a  more  hopeless  condition  ;  he  teels  that 
he  ought  to  back  his  luck,  and  should  he  unfortunately 
leave  the  rooms  considerably  richer  than  when  he 
entered  his  reappearance  is  almost  a  certainty.  Until 
he  has  lost  all  he  won  on  the  first  day,  and  considerably 
more,  the  goddess  of  chance  has  him  well  under  her 
spell. 

Besides  these  calamities  the  winner  is  liable  to  become 
a  bore.  Losers  sometimes  talk  on  other  subjects — 
winners  never.  The  golf  bore  is  bad  enough  in  some 
places  ;  but  if  you  wish  to  find  the  unadulterated  article 
you  will  find  him  in  any  of  the  hotels  within  easy  reach 
of  Monte  Carlo.  The  pity  of  it  is  that  if  these 
gambling  hells  must  exist  a  spot  with  so  much  natural 
beauty  should  be  defiled  by  the  chief  of  them  all. 


254 


The  Vrincipality  of  Monaco 


denied  i 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    PRINCIPALITY    OF    MONACO 

MONTE     CARLO,    lying    within     six     miles    of 
Mentone,   with    a    good   service    of  trains  and 
tram-cars  between    the    two    places,   its    many 
attractions  drew  many  there  daily  from  the  quieter  town. 
Many  and  various  were  the  excuses  given  for  a  run  over 
to  what  was  familiarly  Monte  :   the  band  in  the  Casmo 
gardens,  a  good  programme  for  the  concert  hall,  the  Erne 
Arts  exhibition,  the  pigeon-shooting,  and  now  the  flymg 
contests   and    motor-boat   races  ;   in    short   nothing   that 
attracts    the    idle    rich    is    neglected    by    the        Societe 
anonyme  des   Bains  de   Mer   et  Cercle  des   Etrangers." 
The  bain   de  mer  excuse   was   not   to    the    fore   at   this 
season,    the   concert   might   be   discussed  after   an   after- 
noon's  outing,  and   even   on   one   occasion   the  picture 
gallery.      But  when   these  weak  excuses  were  exhausted 
an    indiscreet    guest    would    start    the    ball    rolling    with 
"  Well,  what  luck  had  you  ?  "  and  if  one  sat  up  till  the 
lights    were    turned    out    the    chances    of     the    game 
monopolized  the  conversation.      This  is  worse  in  hotels 
patronized  by  others  than   the  English.      The  guests  at 

255 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

the  "  Turin  "  were  of  all  nationalities  ;  the  idle  were  in 
quantities,  the  rich  were  few.  The  extortionate  charges 
of  refreshments  at  Monte  Carlo  was  a  subject  of  talk 
amongst  the  few  who  did  not  go  there  solely  to  gamble. 
Those  who  spoke  little  or  no  French  were  the  chief 
sufferers.  To  give  one  example  : — I  went  there  the 
same  afternoon  as  two  other  Englishmen  from  this  hotel 
who  entered  the  Casino  while  I  proceeded  to  Monaco. 
After  winning  or  losing,  as  the  case  may  be,  they  had  some 
tea  at  the  Restaurant  de  Paris.  When  they  had  each 
taken  a  cup  and  eaten  a  couple  of  small  cakes  the  elder 
put  down  a  five-franc  piece  and  waited  for  the  change. 
The  waiter  took  this  and  asked  the  younger  man  for  a 
similar  sum,  explaining  that  ten  francs  was  the  charge 
for  what  they  had  had.  Handicapped  as  these  men 
were  by  not  speaking  French,  they  allowed  themselves  to 
be  robbed  rather  than  kick  up  a  row  ;  and  to  add  insult 
to  injury  the  waiter  pretended  great  indignation  at  not 
receiving  a  very  adequate  tip.  On  comparing  our 
experiences  when  we  met  that  evening  mine  failed  to 
console  my  acquaintances.  I  had  had  exactly  the  same 
as  they  had,  in  a  comfortable  cafe  frequented  by  the 
people  of  the  place,  and  being  probably  taken  for  a 
Frenchman  my  charges  amounted  to  less  than  a  seventh 
part  of  theirs,  and  my  proportionate  tip  was  received 
with  thanks.  It  is  true  that  my  cafe  was  less  gorgeous 
than  theirs,  but  it  is  no  sacrifice  to  dispense  with  a 
gorgeousness  not  to  one's  taste.  1  have  no  doubt  that 
the  charges  at  this  restaurant  are  not  such  as  these 
256 


THE  PRINCIPALITY  OF  MONACO 

Englishmen  paid  ;  the  waiter  probably  pocketed  more 
than  half,  and  a  complaint  to  the  management  might 
have  ensured  his  dismissal.  But  where  a  whole 
Principality  flourishes  on  the  spoils  of  the  foreigner  one 
must  not  expect  a  high  class  of  morality  in  its  humbler 
subjects. 

The  old  town  of   Monaco  on   its   rocky   promontory 

stands   aloof    from    the  gay  and  frivolous  Monte  Carlo. 

It  has  its  castle  (not  a  ruin  in  this  case),  its  walls  and  its 

towers,    as    well    as    a    large    cathedral,    and    it    is    still 

inhabited  by    a  scion  of  the  House  of  Grimaldi  which 

has    ruled    this    territory    for    nearly    a    thousand    years. 

With   so   much    to  recall  its  romantic  past  the  town   is 

singularly  disappointing.      Nowhere  on  the  whole  coast 

are  the  walls  and  gates  as  complete  as  here,  in  tact  they 

look    as    if  they    had   just    been    built.        And    this    is 

probably    the    cause    of    the    disappointment — medieval 

defences,  unless  they  look  old,  are  liable  to  look  childish. 

They  are  too  useless  in  the  present  day  to  justify  their 

existence  as  new  constructions  ;    and  renovated  as  these 

have   been  they  make  little  appeal  to  the   imagination. 

I  have  no  doubt  they  look  very  much  as  they  appeared 

in  the  thirteenth  century  when  their  existence  was  amply 

justified  ;    but  now  the  neatly  restored  drawbridge  leaves 

us  as  cold  as  does  its  brand  new  portcullis.      The  castle 

is    interesting   from    its   still   being   used    for    its   original 

purpose — that  of  a  house  for  the  reigning  family — but 

it    is    neither    a    dignified    nor    a    picturesque    building. 

The  large  space  in  front  serves  as  a  drill-ground  for  the 

17  257 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

seventy  soldiers  that  compose  the  Monegaste  army  ;    but 
at  their  best  drill-grounds  are  ugly  places. 

There  is  a  certain  old-world  dignity  about  the  streets 
although  they  are  not  picturesque,  and  there  is  a  sleepy 
look  about  the  town  which  contrasts  singularly  with  the 
gay  Monte  Carlo  across  the  harbour.  Monaco  has  one 
or  two  insignificant  churches  and  a  brand  new  cathedral. 
This  is  not  designed  by  the  architect  of  the  Paris  Opera 
House,  nevertheless  his  masterpiece,  the  Casino,  supplied 
the  funds.  Charles  Lenormand  designed  the  building, 
and  a  really  fine  building  it  is.  Its  style  is  Byzantine, 
and  it  seems  to  lack  little  that  an  architect  well  versed  in 
that  period  could  give  it — that  litde  is  unfortunately  its 
soul.  It  stirs  no  sense  of  devotion,  but  rather  it  starts 
us  calculating  the  number  of  revolutions  of  the  roulette 
necessary  to  defray  the  cost  of  the  structure. 

We  never  hear  of  the  Prince  of  Monaco  patronizing 
the  Casino,  the  place  being  probably  as  loathsome  to 
him  as  to  the  writer.  He  is  a  man  of  science  who  has 
largely  increased  our  knowledge  of  the  fauna  of  the 
Mediterranean  and  other  seas.  A  palatial  museum  is 
one  of  the  most  conspicuous  buildings  on  the  promon- 
tory, and  here  are  collected  the  specimens  which  he  has 
gathered  during  his  yachting  and  dredging  expeditions. 

It  is  said  that  his  son  and  heir  will  refuse  to  renew 
the  concession  to  the  gaming  establishment,  but  as  this 
does  not  expire  till  1947  he  will  be  an  old  man  before 
he  loses  that  source  of  revenue.  His  mother  was  Lady 
Mary  Victoria,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  and 
258 


THE  PRINCIPALITY  OF  MONACO 


Brandon.  His  parents  were  married  in  1869;  but 
after  eleven  years,  when  the  young  prince  was  a  boy  of 
ten,  they  petitioned  the  Pope  to  dissolve  the  marriage. 
What  valid  reason  induced  His  Holiness  to  accede  to 
their  wish  we  must  leave  to  the  Curia  to  explain.  It 
was  decreed  that  the  union  was  no  marriage,  but  at  the 
same  time  the  legitimacy  of  the  son  was  to  be  recognized 
— more  explanations  wanted. 

The  Principality  is  eight  square  miles  in  area,  and  to 
house  the  15,000  subjects  as  well  as  the  foreign  visitors 
nearly  the  whole  area  is  covered  with  bricks  and  mortar. 
The  valley  between  the  town  of  Monaco  and  Monte 
Carlo  is  known  as  La  Condamine,  and  here  are  most  of 
the  shops  which  supply  the  two  places.  Although  we 
may  not  admire  any  individual  building  the  view  of  the 
whole  Principality  as  seen  from  a  distance  is  extremely 
beautiful.  We  obtain  this  view  from  the  Mentone  side 
soon  after  we  leave  the  Cap  S.  Martin  behind  us. 

This,  like  any  other  extended  view,  is  of  course  very 
much  dependent  on  the  conditions  of  the  atmosphere 
for  its  beauty.  Happily  it  looked  its  best  early  last 
Easter  Monday  when  I  set  up  my  easel  in  a  secluded 
garden  off  the  lower  Corniche  Road.  The  peninsula 
ot  Monaco  seemed  afloat  in  liquid  blue  shot  with  green, 
a  blue  such  as  the  Mediterranean  often  gives  us  later  in 
the  season,  but  which  it  reserves  for  rare  occasions 
during  the  cooler  weather.  Above  La  Condamine  and 
Monte  Carlo  the  bold  oudine  of  La  Tete  de  Chien  was 
only  a  shade  of  darker  opalescence  than  the  sky,  which 
1/  259 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

as  it  reached    the  vauk   above   us   deepened   to   a   blue 
rivalling  that  of  the  sea. 

It  was  unusually  hot  tor  the  time  of  year,  which 
accounted  in  a  measure  tor  the  evanescent  appearance 
of  objects  at  so  short  a  distance.  Not  a  ripple  stirred 
the  water  and  except  the  hum  ot  the  bees  there  was  not 
a  sound.  Monte  Carlo  seemed  to  be  sleeping  otf  its 
Easter  night's  orgy,  hours  alter  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens. 

A  putF  of  smoke  rising  trom  a  black  speck  in  the 
blue  waters  and  followed  by  a  report  was  the  first 
intimation  that  Monte  Carlo  had  awakened.  As  by 
magic  the  whole  scene  changed.  Dark  objects  shot  out 
from  behind  the  spit  of  Les  Speluges,  leaving  a  white 
line  in  their  wake  ;  then,  turning  sunwards,  a  glint  of 
light  on  their  polished  surfaces  made  them  distinguish- 
able. They  spun  round  a  buoy,  turned  to  dark  objects 
once  more,  and  were  followed  by  others  pursuing  the 
same  course,  till  the  azure  surtace  ot  the  bay  was  lined 
in  white  concentric  circles.  My  secluded  spot  was  soon 
invaded  by  people  rushing  to  get  a  good  view  ot  the 
International  Motor-Boat  race  which  had  been  so 
suddenly  sprung  on  me.  A  dull  roar  beneath  me  and 
a  volume  of  smoke  between  the  trees  further  on  was 
the  first  sign  of  a  train  bringing  its  load  of  spectators 
from  the  towns  on  the  east.  These  tollowed  at  short 
intervals,  while  the  road  above  me  was  in  a  cloud  of 
dust  from  the  hooting  motor-cars  making  for   the  same 

goal. 

260 


THE  PRINCIPALITY  OF  MONACO 

What  had  first  disturbed  the  calm  waters  proved  to 
be  a  trial  run.  The  great  event  did  not  take  place  till 
midday.  Clouds  of  dust  were  already  discolouring  my 
immediate  foreground,  my  sea  was  cut  up  in  white 
lines,  and  as  if  nature  resented  this  unwonted  disturbance 
her  ethereal  beauty  faded  into  the  commonplace.  Her 
outlines  became  harder,  and  the  mid-distant  houses,  at 
first  a  creamy  mass  of  shimmering  light,  began  to  show 
their  individual  ugliness  as  they  became  more  defined  in 
the  light  and  shade.  The  colour  of  the  sky  ceased  to 
suggest  pearls  and  opals  and  tended  towards  that  of  a 
blue  band-box. 

It  was  time  to  pack  up,  and  hardly  had  I  done  so 
when  we  were  startled  by  a  roar  overhead.  A  thing 
like  a  mammoth  locust  passed  within  a  dozen  yards 
above  me.  Those  who  directed  it  seemed  like  parasites 
gnawing  the  vitals  of  the  ugly  beast,  and  accounting  for 
the  terrific  noise  it  made.  I  was  thankful  I  had  packed 
my  drawing,  for  the  droppings  from  such  a  monster,  if 
not  fatal  to  myself,  might  certainly  have  destroyed  my 
work. 

The  midday  gun  not  only  started  the  races  on  the 
water,  but  must  also  have  started  one  in  the  air.  While 
the  former  was  being  cut  up  in  concentric  circles  the 
air  seemed  alive  with  monoplanes,  biplanes  and 
hydroplanes,  which  seen  at  a  distance  during  their 
evolutions  had,  I  confess,  some  elements  ot  beauty. 

The  following  morning,  although   the  view  was  fine, 

nature    seemed    not     to     have     entirely    got    over    her 

261 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

resentment.  The  slight  haze  which  had  disguised  the 
blemishes  scratched  by  man  on  her  face  had 
disappeared,  and  the  bold  mountain  shoulder,  La  Tete 
de  Chien,  looked  less  imposing  in  a  light  that  showed 
up  more  of  its  detail.  To  complete  a  drawing  when 
the  effect  which  tempted  its  commencement  has  gone 
is  the  chief  difficulty  in  landscape  painting.  Better 
far  to  complete  it  away  from  the  changed  face  of  nature 
while  the  effect  is  still    fresh  in  one's  memory.  Le 

mieux  est  I'ennemi  du  bien  "  aptly  applies  in  similar 
cases.  We  will  therefore  leave  to  the  mercy  ot  the 
reproducers  whatever  of  the  good  "  may  have  been 
preserved  in  this  drawing. 


262 


The  Market  at  Nice 


i.      '1  n 

iS   gone 

,y  troni  the  ature 

'   IS  still   trt 

similar 


33\Vl    to    l«3ttoVl   «tVT 


I 


ve   bee  n 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

NICE  :    THE  HOTEL  DES   ETRANGERS,  FRENCH  COOKING,   THE 

GENERAL     ELECTIONS,     THE     MARKET-PLACE,     AND     THE 

UNRIVALLED  EXCURSIONS  INTO  THE  VALLONS  OF   NICE 

THE  half-century  which  has  elapsed  since  the 
Italian  Nizza  (known  to  us  and  the  French  as 
Nice)  was  ceded  to  France  has  witnessed  a  more 
striking  change  in  this  town  than  in  any  other  on  the 
coast.  Mentone  may  have  grown  proportionately  larger, 
and  Monte  Carlo  may  attract  ten  times  its  former 
visitors ;  but  Nice  has  done  more  than  extend  its 
borders — it  has  changed  its  character.  Nice  is  no 
longer  an  Italian  town  with  a  French  veneer,  it  might 
be  a  bit  of  Paris  cut  out  and  dumped  on  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean coast.  It  is  only  in  the  old  town  (at  present  a 
small  quarter  in  a  large  modern  city)  that  anything 
remains  to  recall  its  past  ownership. 

The  season  was  drawing  to  its  close  when  I  arrived 
there  last  spring,  and  the  cosmopolitan  hotels  were 
about  to  put  up  their  shutters  ;  there  was,  however,  no 
fear  of  not  getting  accommodation  in  a  French  town 
with   a   population,   independent   of  its   visitors,   ot  over 

263 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

100,000    souls.      I    found   a   large    old-fashioned    hotel 

run  by  French  people  and  for  a  French   clientele.      It 

commanded  no  view  of  the  sea,  had   no  tennis-courts, 

and  its  garden  was  no  more  than  what  the  three  wings 

ol  the  building  enclosed.     But  should  any  of  my  readers 

wish  to  know  of  an  hotel  where  good  food  and   other 

modern    requirements   (except    those    mentioned    above) 

are   obtainable  at  a  reasonable  cost  let   me   recommend 

the    Hotel    des    Etrangers    at    Nice,      Its    name    seemed 

singularly  inappropriate,  for  I  heard  no  word  but  French 

spoken    there.       In    season    or    out    of  season    there    is 

seldom     a     vacant     place     in     its    huge    dining-room. 

Officials,    officers    quartered    in    the    town,    and    hommes 

cT affaires  formed  the  bulk  of  the  guests. 

The  French  as  well  as  the  Italians  seem  to  take  their 

meals   much    more    seriously    than    we   do    and   also   to 

consume    a    good    deal    more.       For    one    reason    their 

meals   are    fewer    than    with  us,   and  consequently    their 

appetites   are   keener.      To   discuss    the  dishes  is  also   a 

safe  subject  of  conversation  in  countries  where  political 

feeling  runs  high  ;    besides  this  the  French  know  a  great 

deal  more  about  the  preparation  of  food   than   we   do. 

When    a    Frenchwoman    criticizes   a   dish    she    probably 

knows  exactly  what  is  amiss  with  it,  while  her  English 

sister    may    merely    perceive  that    its  taste  is  unpleasant. 

Our   comparative   indifference    to   the   cooking   may    be 

due    to    our    raw    material   being  so   much    superior    to 

most  of  it  on  the  Continent.     The  cook  is  also  a  greater 

personage  in  a  French  household  than  with  us  ;    where 
264 


NICE:  THE  HOTEL  DES  ETRANGERS 

a  chef  is  kept  his  wages  will  exceed  the  salary  of  the 
tutor,  and  in  middle-class  homes  what  the  bonne  a  tout 
faire  knows  of  cooking  has  in  most  cases  been  taught 
her  by  the  lady  of  the  house. 

When  a  Frenchman  tucks  his  napkin  under  his  chin 
and  wipes  with  the  loose  end  his  glass  and  cutlery  it 
gives  him  a  look  ol  meaning  business.  By  the  time  the 
fish  is  served  we  may  with  safety  start  a  mild  discussion 
as  to  whether  it  should  have  been  fried  in  oil  or  butter. 
This  may  break  the  silence  often  observed  until  a 
previous  course  has  satisfied  the  first  cravings  of  appetite. 
Should  the  person  addressed  require  another  course 
before  he  loosens  his  tongue  there  is  always  someone 
willmg  to  enlighten  our  ignorance  on  so  vital  a  matter. 
As  the  appetites  become  subdued  and  the  wine  (still 
given  gratis  in  the  old-fashioned  hotels)  has  produced  its 
cheering  effects  we  may  hear  how  the  various  dishes  are 
treated  in  the  difterent  parts  of  France.  Outside  that 
country  cooking,  according  to  most  Frenchmen,  does 
not  exist. 

More  French  people  go  beyond  their  borders  than 
formerly,  but  it  is  still  surprising  how  few  they  are. 
We  were  only  twenty  miles  from  the  Italian  frontier, 
and  I  doubt  if  one  in  ten  assembled  here  had  ever 
crossed  it.  The  few  who  had  done  so  did  not  seem  in 
a  hurry  to  repeat  their  experience  ;  la  cuisine  italienne  " 
was  not  to  their  fancy  ;  although  they  admitted  that 
one  or  two  dishes  might  to  an  advantage  be  introduced 
into  France. 

265 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Few  people  seem  aware  that  amongst  the  many  arts 
which  Italy  has  introduced  into  France  the  culinary  art 
is  one  of  them.  Betore  the  time  of  Catherine  de' 
Medici  French  cooking  was  as  plain  as  that  of  the 
English.  The  Italians  she  brought  in  her  train,  as  well 
as  others  who  since  her  time  have  made  France  their 
home,  introduced  many  dishes  in  common  use  in  Italy, 
and  France  being  the  wealthier  country,  and  having 
better  raw  material,  has  been  able  to  develop  to  its 
present  state  of  perfection  what  it  has  learnt  from  its 
Italian  neighbours. 

On  hearing  several  of  the  guests  asking  for  la  sauce 
anglaise,"  and  seeing  the  old  familiar  product  from 
Worcester  passed  down  the  table,  I  reminded  my 
neighbours  of  the  old  saying  :  "  England  has  a 
hundred  and  fifty  religions  and  only  one  sauce,"  but 
that  we  might  console  ourselves  seeing  how  popular  our 
only  sauce  was.  He  told  me  that  many  imitations  of 
it  had  been  attempted  in  France,  "  mais  il  y  a  toujours 
un  je  ne  sais  quoi  qui  manque."  I  also  heard 
'  Sheddaire  "  asked  for,  and  saw  a  piece  of  so-called 
Cheddar  cheese  sent  back  after  a  sniff  at  it  with  the 
comment  that  it  was  a  Canadian  imitation.  It  is 
singular  that  in  a  country  where  wine  is  so  largely 
grown,  and  where  it  has  been  the  drink  of  the  people 
from  time  immemorial,  that  the  French  gourmet  is 
much  more  indifferent  to  the  wine  he  takes  with  his 
meals  than  most  Englishmen.  The  petit  vin  included 
in  the  dinner  was  nothing  to  complain  of ;  but  a  well- 
266 


NICE:  THE  HOTEL  PES  ETRANGERS 

to-do  British  tradesman  would  give  his  guests  something 
better  to  drink  with  his  boiled  leg  ot  mutton.  And 
this  wine  was  no  poorer  than  most  Frenchmen  will  give 
their  guests  as  an  accompaniment  to  an  exquisitely 
prepared  meal. 

During  my  short  stay  at  Nice  France  was  in  the 
throes  of  a  general  election,  and,  although  the 
corjversation  at  the  table  d'hote  was  lively  enough 
towards  the  end  of  the  meals,  this  election  might  have 
taken  place  in  China  from  the  little  concern  shown  by 
the  diners.  I  never  heard  it  alluded  to,  and  had  it  not 
been  that  my  windows  overlooked  the  town-hall  I 
should  probably  not  have  been  aware  that  anything 
unusual  was  happening.  Beyond  the  election  addresses 
of  the  candidates  posted  in  reserved  places  outside  the 
public  buildings  not  a  poster  disfigured  the  town. 
This  was  not  so  a  few  years  ago,  when  even  statues  were 
plastered  over  with  every  lie  a  candidate  can  invent  to 
the  disparagement  of  his  opponents.  A  wise  law  has 
recently  altered  all  this.  Partisans  may  give  vent  to 
their  feelings  in  the  newspapers,  which  no  law  can 
compel  us  to  read  ;  but  they  may  no  more  offend  the 
eyes  of  the  innocent  with  the  hideous  posters  they  still 
suffer  from  at  home. 

There  was  little  in  Nice  itself,  except  its  market-place, 
to  tempt  me  to  make  a  long  stay.  Its  unrivalled  sea- 
frontage  with  its  celebrated  "  Promenade  des  Anglais  "  is 
rather  depressing  atter  the  season's  visitors  have  left,  a 
spell   of  hot   weather   having  driven   away   the   few  still 

267 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE   RIVIERA 

remaining  on  my  arrival.  An  interesting  old  town  is, 
to  my  thinking,  far  pleasanter  after  the  tourists  have 
left,  but  where  a  town  is  principally  laid  out  for  their 
attraction  the  visitors  form  a  part  of  the  show. 

There  are  few  markets,  especially  in  the  south,  which 
do  not  lend  themselves  to  pictorial  treatment ;  that  of 
Nice  is  no  better  than  many  others,  but  quite  good 
enough  for  many  a  subject.  The  people  being  used  to 
seeing  strangers  sketching,  as  well  as  being  naturally 
courteous,  makes  it  more  pleasant  to  work  here  than  in 
most  places.  A  large  and  ugly  shed  covers  the  main 
portion  where  the  flowers  are  sold.  It  is  the  humbler 
stalls  sheltered  from  the  sun  or  rain  by  huge  umbrellas 
which  attracts  us  most.  Where  even  these  protections 
are  not  needed  for  many  of  the  fruits  and  herbs  the 
women,  with  the  innate  taste  of  the  French,  will  guard 
their  heads  from  the  scorching  rays  by  twisting  a  news- 
paper into  a  becoming  sun-bonnet. 

The  fish-market  further  on  is  as  picturesque  in  its 
way  as  the  other.  Highly  coloured  fruits  of  the  sea  are 
displayed  here  which  are  never  seen  in  northern  towns, 
queer-looking  creatures  we  only  associate  with  an 
aquarium  are  heaped  amidst  the  mass  of  silvery 
slipperiness  familiar  in  our  fish-shops  at  home.  The 
markets  extend  along  the  whole  of  the  Cours  Saleya,  a 
half-mile  in  length,  and  running  parallel  to  the  Quai  du 
Midi.  It  forms  the  base  of  an  equilateral  triangle 
comprising  the  old  town,  which  is  cut  off  from  the  new 
by  the  river  Paillon,  and  hemmed  in  on  the  east  by  the 
268 


NICE:   THE  HOTEL  PES  ETRANGERS 

hill  formerly  crowned  by  the  castle.  The  port  is  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  the  further  side  and  lies  snugly 
sheltered  between  it  and  the  Mont  Boron. 

The  harbour  still  retains  its  ancient  name  of  Lympia  ; 
and  before  the  Greeks  built  on  the  site  ot  what  we  now 
know  as  the  old  town  Lympia  had  been  a  settlement 
of  Phocasan  colonists.  The  Paillon  at  that  period 
flowed  into  this  harbour,  but  owing  to  the  debris  it 
brought  down  from  the  mountains  these  early  settlers 
diverted  its  course  to  the  western  side  ot  the  Casde  hill. 
We  are  told  it  is  owing  to  a  victory  the  Greek  colonists 
won  against  the  barbarian  tribesmen  that  they  gave  the 
name  of  Nike  "  to  the  town  they  built  on  the  west 
side  of  their  harbour.  Thus  we  get  our  modern  name 
of  Nice. 

The  port  is  not  particularly  picturesque  ;  if  we  wish 
to  paint  shipping  in  pretty  surroundings  we  can  find 
them  at  Villefranche,  which  lies  at  the  head  of  the  bay  at 
the  eastern  foot  of  Mont  Boron.  Camogli  was,  however, 
too  fresh  in  my  memory  for  Villefranche  to  awaken 
much  enthusiasm. 

Cimiez  is  now  a  part  of  Nice,  hotels  and  villas 
having  been  run  up  in  the  intervening  space.  When 
the  province  became  Roman  the  consul  and  govern- 
ment officials  built  their  villas  on  the  hill  to  the  north 
of  the  existing  Nike  ;  and  what  with  the  dwellings  ot 
their  retainers,  their  amphitheatre  and  temples,  Cemene- 
lium,  as  it  was  then  called,  soon  outgrew  Nike,  of  which 
it   had    been    a  suburb.      Nothing  now  remains  ot  this 

269 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

Roman  town  except  some  fragments  of  the  amphitheatre, 
which  traversed  by  a  tram-hne  and  surrounded  by  huge 
hotels  is  a  pitiable  object  to  look  at. 

After  the  destruction  ot  both  these  towns  by  the 
Lombards  in  the  sixth  century  the  territory  was  annexed 
to  the  Prankish  Kingdom  ot  Aries,  when  a  new  town 
grew  up  around  the  castle  on  the  hill  separating  the 
port  from  the  old  town.  A  few  foundations  are  all  we 
see  at  present  of  this  feudal  stronghold  ;  and  a  cemetery 
and  a  public  park  occupy  the  crest  ot  the  hill  where  the 
medieval  town  formerly  stood.  The  old  tortress  had 
withstood  the  assaults  ot  the  Saracens,  had  repelled  the 
attacks  of  the  Aragonese  Counts  of  Provence;  in  14 19 
it  willingly  put  itselt  under  the  dominion  ot  the  house 
of  Savoy,  under  which  it  enjoyed  a  short  reign  of  peace, 
till  the  wars  between  Prance  and  the  Empire  again 
made  it  a  bone  ot  contention.  The  most  famous 
episode  is  the  siege  ot  1543  ;  the  Pranco-Turkish  fleets 
and  a  Prench  army  got  possession  ot  the  town  in  spite 
of  the  heroism  ot  its  commander  Monfort  and  his 
people,  amongst  whom  Catherine  Segurane,  the 
"Jeanne  Hachette  Nicoise,"  chiefly  distinguished 
herself  The  castle  held  out  until  imperial  reinforce- 
ments drove  the  Prench  out  ot  the  town,  but  not  before 
several  quarters  had  been  sacked  and  burnt.  Twice 
during  the  wars  ot  Louis  XIV.  was  Nice  besieged,  and 
when  it  yielded  in  1706  to  La  Peuillade  and  the  Duke 
of  Berwick  the  latter  caused  the  old  castle  to  be  razed  to 

the  ground. 

270 


NICE:  THE  HOTEL  DES   ETRANGERS 

There  is  little  left  to  recall  the  various  epochs  in  the 
story  ot  Nice,  and  fine  and  handsome  a  town  as  it 
now  assuredly  is,  a  little  ot  Nice,  to  my  mind,  goes  a 
long  way.  From  few  places  can  we,  however,  make 
more  interestmg  excursions,  and  none  provide  greater 
facilities  for  making  them.  That  marvellous  road 
constructed  by  Napoleon  I.,  known  as  "La  Grande 
Corniche,"  has  been  described  too  often  to  need  any 
comments  here  on  its  beauty.  What  fascinating  places 
do  we  not  pass  while  we  wind  the  folds  of  the 
mountain-side  till  we  descend  to  the  sea-level  at 
Mentone  !  Eze,  with  its  rocky  seat  detached  from  the 
blue  Mediterranean,  while  its  towers  are  outlined  against 
the  sky  !  Then  the  historic  Turbia,  whose  houses 
shame  the  card-built  palaces  of  Monte  Carlo  beneath  it ! 
And  what  of  Roquebrune .''  Does  it  not  look  as 
enduring  as  the  rocks  from  which  it  springs  ?  But  if 
we  think  ot  the  stress  which  formerly  drove  these 
people  to  build  on  such  inaccessible  spots  we  may 
console  ourselves  that  life  is  possibly  pleasanter  in  the 
pasteboard  houses  we  see  as  we  enter  the  outskirts 
of   Mentone. 

The  scenery  is  on  a  grander  scale  than  beyond  the 
Italian  frontier.  The  villages  are  not  less  Italian  in 
aspect,  while  their  setting  is  more  imposing.  We  are 
able  to  ascend  much  further  up  the  valleys  of  the 
Maritime  Alps  than  we  can  into  the  Ligurian 
mountains,  both  the  roads  and  the  accommodation 
being    far    superior.        And    what    beauty    and    interest 

271 


AN  ARTIST  IN  THE  RIVIERA 

does  not  the  Vallons  de  Nice  afford  to  those  who 
can  tear  themselves  away  from  the  excitements  of 
the  town  ? 

The  Var,  which  discharges  its  turbid  waters  into  the 
Bay  of  Angels,  separates  the  Riviera  di  Ponente  from 
the  Cote  d'Azur  ;  and  should  my  readers  have  followed 
me  so  far  we  may  hope  to  meet  again  on  the  beautiful 
shores  of  Provence. 


THE    END 


I'nn/td  at    The  Chapel  River  Press,   A'ingslon,  Surrey. 


D    000  909  632    2 


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